The Hope of Broken Things
by DevilsArchangel
Summary: Things have been wrong in the Hallliwell house with the mysterious Chris Halliwell, but when a runaway old flame comes to warn him of an upcoming evil, just how long will he keep his secrets... (warning: slash, mentions of rape) set after (Spin city)
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Charmed...

Chapter One.

Saturday 4:37 PM  
  
"Do you really think he's trying to avoid you?" asked Phoebe, looking up at her sister.  
  
"Yeah, I mean, after last week...he just admitted that you die in the future. Maybe...maybe he's just not comfortable being around a supposedly dead woman," said Paige.  
  
The sisters were all in the kitchen. Phoebe sat at the table sipping coffee and desperately trying to get a serious head start on her next column. Paige sat next to her, sipping her own drink, trying to comfort her older sister.  
  
The sound of the knife cutting through meat and lettuce stopped on the chopping board. "Yeah, I know, it's just that...I thought that he would want to get closer to me," Piper said dejectedly, eyes downcast, letting the knife fall into the sink, before turning to look at her sisters. "I mean...I...we...Phoebe and I, of all people, should know what he's going through. We went back in time and visit our own mom. I mean...you know...she died, too."  
  
Hearing this, Phoebe stopped typing furiously on her laptop, took off her glasses, stood up, and went to hug her sister. "Yeah, we did, honey, but...this is different," she said, now holding a very accepting Piper in her arms.  
  
Paige, who didn't know what to say because, at least, she lost her parents at a relatively older age, chimed in. "Yeah, sweetie, I don't know what to say. I...well, I guess we all lost our parents too early in life, but...we...at least...I mean, well, we always had someone there for us."  
  
Piper finally looked up to stare at Paige with a confused look on her face, as Phoebe patted her on her back, having an equally confused face, too.  
  
"Well, you guys, think about it. He hasn't really said that much, but after everything he's told us about the future, does it really seem like we have a lot of say on what went on there?" Paige said, looking on to her sisters with a quiet voice. "I mean, if Wyatt turned evil and Piper died and Leo was a no-show dad, then who's to say that Piper was the only one who died? I mean, we could be dead, too, Phoebe. For all we know, Chris could have spent most of his teenage life, the most important part of a person's life, mind you, alone, scared, scarred, which would explain his neurotic tendencies, and running from the most powerful being, who's a bad guy that just so happens to be his brother. I mean, imagaine. All that time...and he was just...alone."  
  
Piper's eyes glazed, staring at nothing. "That never crossed my mind."  
  
"I know...the thought kind of hit me like that, too. I mean, at least I grew up, to an adult mostly, when my parents died. If I admit it, part of me was kind of ready for them to leave...I mean, not "_die_" leave, but leave just the same... I was mostly ready for it. Besides, I had my aunts and uncles, even cousins, to talk to afterward, who _took me in_, who _sympathized_, who _helped_... That made things a lot easier."  
  
"Yeah," said Phoebe agreeing. "I mean, we had Grams growing up. I never really knew Mom. She died before I could really remember her. And, yes, I wanted to save her, but...Grams was there, and Prue was there, _you_ were there," she said as she shook Piper playfully on the shoulders, sadly grinning, before receiving a small, exhasuted laugh in return. "I mean, we had people we could turn to, people who could love us. I'd hate to think what I'd do if it was just me by myself..."  
  
"Yeah, I guess you're right," said Piper whose eyes that have been filled with unshed tears finally let loose. "We had people we could trust and take comfort from. Mom did die at an early age, and I do remember some stuff, but...I had you and Prue and Grams, sometimes even Andy, as a support group behind me." Piper stopped to wipe some of her tears away. "I'd hate to imagine what he went through growing up like that. It's just...I wish he knew how he really felt like, you know? If he really loves me?"  
  
"Okay, now you're just being stupid," spoke Paige jokingly and letting out a small laugh of her own.  
  
"Yeah, of course, he loves you. Like he said, he's just...afraid...of getting close again. I mean, after he saves Wyatt, he might have to go back to a future where you aren't there waiting for him. I mean, after all those scars and emotional baggage he carries, who knows how much he went through, not even just when you died, but before, too," said Phoebe.  
  
"You think something was wrong before I died?" Piper said, concerned and surprise.  
  
"Well, yeah. I mean, what the hell? Who knows when Wyatt turned? He could have been hiding and we wouldn't even have known it. Plus, take into consideration, how much he hates Leo..." Phoebe finished.  
  
"Yeah...I guess so," Piper said. "Thanks you guys. You know, for giving me a little perspective."  
  
"Anytime, sweetie," said Phoebe, as she let her self be pulled into a group hug.  
  
"Yeah, you know we'll always be here for you."  
  
"Thanks, you guys."  
  
"Remember," Paige warned, "talk to him, but...don't push. He'll come to you when he's ready."  
  
"Yeah...I know...thanks," Piper said as she started laughing and working her way back to the sink. "Now, come on. I have to finish or we'll be having take out."  
  
Paige and Phoebe laughed and went to sit down, when a loud explosion could be heard coming from the attic. "Jeez, what was that?!" yelled Phoebe, as the house still shook as a result of the explosion.  
  
"Wyatt!" yelled Paige.  
  
"Don't worry about him. I asked Sheila if she could look after him until dinner, when they come over," said Piper, seconds before realization struck. "Oh, my God! Chris! Paige! Hurry! Attic! Attic! Attic!"


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I still own nothing from Charmed...Damn!  
  
Starting in this Chapter, I will have something similar to thought- speaking, so there are three things for you to understand. Whenever anything is italicized, that indicates Brett's thoughts. Whenever you anything is in (...) and italicized will be Chris hearing Brett's thoughts. Whenever you see ... and italicized everyone will hear Brett's thoughts.

* * *

Chapter Two  
  
He was sprawled on the couch in the attic, looking through the Book when, what he forgot was, a familiar voice suddenly break through the silence that was awkwardly held in the Halliwell manor on a Sunday afternoon.  
  
"Some things never change," it said, hinting of nostalgia, talking more to itself than to anyone else in the room.  
  
Chris suddenly used his whitelighter powers to sense the being in the room and sent him clear across the attic until it hit the wall behind it. Wasting no time, Chris quickly orbed to the potions cabinet and took out several vanquishing potions, and throwing them to where the intruder lay on the ground.  
  
"Chris! Stop! Please!" it screamed. It suddenly came clear to Chris that the voice belonged to a man. It took him a couple of seconds to realize that it said "please." It took even more time to realize that it...he...knew Chris' name.  
  
Looking through the smoke and squinting to see the ashen face, Chris quickly remembered the person already standing up before him. "Oh, my God...Brett?!"  
  
"Yeah...um...nice to see you, too?" the young man said.  
  
"Oh my God!...I thought you were...I always thought...Wyatt..." Chris trailed off, with a laugh of wonder and disbelief before changing to confusion and further, now negative, disbelief. Eyes starting to water, Chris' voice turned cold. "What are you doing here?"  
  
The young man looked down, not being able to keep eye contact in front of Chris. "I came to give warn you that..." Brett's voice faltered now and Chris didn't miss it. "...that Wyatt knows when you are and will be coming for you soon."  
  
"Why? Shouldn't you be off with Wy—"Chris being cut off with the screams of mom and aunts orbing in.  
  
"Chris?! Chris, are you okay?!"  
  
Staring at the _boy_ in front of him, Chris turned back to answer his mom. "Yeah, yeah. I'm okay," he said, before turning back to the other time traveler, pointedly saying in a cold, but wavering tone, a sure and familiar sign, which the younger man didn't miss, that feelings and emotions were warring against each other inside of what was now the Charmed Ones' newest whitelighter. "...I have been for a while."  
  
Phoebe, seeming to be the only one seeing the obvious tension in the room, studied the newcomer standing hunched on one leg, seeming as if he'd fall over at any minute. The man seemed to be about Chris' age, twenty- something-or-other. He had chestnut hair at average length, not too long, like her nephew's, but still able to cast a little shadow over his eyes. Oooh, his eyes... They were the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. They were even prettier than Chris blue-green ones, and Prue's piercing ones. They seemed to be the color of...everything. One second they were the deepest blue she'd ever seen, then they're were the purest green, then the darkest brownish-hazel, and then the palest grey...almost silver. She noticed he was shorter than Chris, by, at least, a head. He was lean, but not scrawny, even if Chris was obviously larger and taller than he was.  
  
"Um...Chris? Do you want to introduce us to your friend? Is he a friend? I'm only assuming because you've yet to throw him across the room," Paige asked, obviously catching on to her sister, not missing the rather attractive young man-boy, who just so happened to be at the receiving and of one of, what she's come to call after seeing a surprisingly various and quite large number of glares granted by her nephew, Chris' ice dagger ones.  
  
But, something was off. His scowl was deeper now, seeming more of uncertainty rather than obvious dislike or displeasure. His eyes were faltering, waving, shifting, but always fixed on the person before him, who still refused to look at him in the eyes.  
  
"Huh, as far as you know," Chris muttered, quiet enough for only Brett to hear, whose head dropped even lower...if that were possible.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Nothing...just forget it," he answered, before turning back to the sisters. "This is Brett. He's my fr...fr...he's Wyattt's...he's from the future, like me," he finally finished after sighing after every failed attempt at an answer.  
  
"I see," Paige said awkwardly. "Is there anything else? Like, possibly, who he is, what he is, his connection to you, and more importantly, what he's doing here?"  
  
"Um...I can answer that one, actually," Brett said, speaking up for the first time since the sisters appeared in the attic, finally turning his attention to them instead of Chris' torso. "I'm here to warn Chris about Wyatt." Brett suddenly turned to Chris, and for the first time in over—what was it?—five, six?—years, looked at him, really, truly looked at him. "And to tell him some things about the resistance movement. Plus, I have something to give him."  
  
(_Oh, God...Chris...)_  
  
Chris blinked. What was that, he thought. It took him a while, but he noticed that one of the voices fighting for consciousness in his mind was actually something a little more familiar.  
  
"Was that you?" Chris asked the not startled boy out loud, as the sisters stared in confusion.  
  
(_Oh...God...Chris can hear me...ugh! Damn...how could I forget--?! Um...yeah it's me...)_  
  
"But...I thought...I mean, you created the blocking potion...how...?" Chris trailed off, not able to express his confusion to the younger boy in front of him who now regressed further to staring at he ground rather where it had been on his chest.  
  
"Um...Chris? Do you mind filling us in here?" Phoebe asked standing next her two other perplexed sisters.  
  
(_Look,...I promise I'll explain...but...please...don't make me...just...not in front of them...)_  
  
"But—"  
  
"Chris?"  
  
(_...please..._)  
  
"But, what about—"  
  
"_Please_."  
  
It was the desperation and pain in that voice that surprised Chris. He had forgotten how emotional his fri—fellow time traveler truly was, regardless of how many walls and masks he seemed to put up. "Mom, Aunt Phoebe, Aunt Paige...do you think you could leave us alone for a while?" he asked, never taking his eyes of the other boy.  
  
"But—"Paige started, but was cut off by Piper rather calm voice.  
  
"Sure, honey, we'll be right downstairs, if you need us," she said, in a cool and collected tone, speaking for the first time since asking if her son was alright.  
  
All eyes, except for Brett's, turned to stare at her. For the first time, Chris noticed his mother's knowing and calculating gaze, and he hoped she wasn't as intuitive now as he knew she was with Wyatt in the future.  
  
"But—"Phoebe began.  
  
"'But' nothing. Chris knows what he's doing and can take care of himself. Besides, I trust my son," she said calmly before giving a small smile to him. "Come on. Let's get out of here," she continued before herding her sisters out the door.  
  
"But—"  
  
"Out."  
  
"But—"  
  
"Out!"  
  
"Fine!" Phoebe yelled before finally, willingly went through the door before saying, "Chris? We love you sweetie!"  
  
"We'll be downstairs if you need us, okay?" Paige asked before being fully pushed out of the door by Piper.  
  
"Okay, Aunt Paige," he said, before turning his shining eyes to his mother. "Thanks, Mom."  
  
"Anytime," she answered before giving him one last samll smile before walking down the attic stairs.  
  
Chris smiled at what just happened right in fron of him. Wow. His mom, his aunts, they loved him... trusted him. His thoughts were interrupted by a quiet voice, breathing out a question.  
  
"So you told them?" said Brett, his eyes, now back on Chris' torso.  
  
Well, progress, at least. "Actually, no, Phoebe had a vision and busted me. They all eventually found out."  
  
Brett nodded in understanding. A beat. "Even Leo? How's he handling it? How are you?"  
  
"I'm fine. Acutally, um...I got turned into by the spider demon a couple of days ago. Beat the pulp out of him, so I got some of it off my chest," Chris gave a forced laugh and noticed that Brett gave a one, too. It didn't used to be this strained...  
  
Eyes on my chest. Okay, definite progress. "Seriously, though, he's...trying. We're...we're...working it out. He feels bad...but...somehow...it's not making me feel as good as I thought it would be... It's even making me feel a little bit bad," Chris said, mulling it over in his brain. "Just a little."  
  
Brett laughed, for real this time, except filled with a little nostalgia. "You always were the good one."  
  
"Obviously not enough."  
  
Brett visbily stiffened and his gaze dropped back to Chris' torso. "Please, Chris, don't."  
  
"Well, we have to talk about it some time! It's gonna come up again sooner or later, you know," Chris said almost too loudly.  
  
"I know, but...please...not right now."  
  
"Then when?!"  
  
"I...I...I don't know..."  
  
"'I...I...I don't know'" Chris mocked. "Then when will you know?!"  
  
(_Please, Chris, please,...don't do this to me..._) "Please, Chris, just...not right now," Brett said, eyes fighting off tears that wanted to fall so badly.  
  
"Don't do this to you?!" Chris yelled, disbelieving. "How about what you did to me?! This totally pales in comparison!"  
  
(_God...Chris...I still l--_) "Please, Chris, not right now...not when I'm like this...not when you can still read my mind..." Chris, couldn't help but hear the despariration in his voice, but couldn't seem to care right now.  
  
"Why? What more secrets could you possibly hide that could hurt me as much as what you did?!" Chris asked yelled, accusingly.  
  
(_Oh, please, don't ask that question, Chris. You really don't want to know. Just don't ask that question..._) "Chris, just let me go for a walk for a while to clear my head and we can try this again," Brett pleaded, already heading for the door.  
  
"No! We're talking about this now!" Chris yelled, as he telekinetically held Brett about three feet away from the door.  
  
(_No! Wyatt! Stop! Please! It hurts! Let me go!)_ "Chris! Let go! You're hurting me! And...I can't...breathe!" Brett gasped.  
  
Chris was shocked out of his sudden anger, and Brett collapsed to the floor on hands and knees gasping. "What...what did you just think?"  
  
"Nothing," said Brett, rather too quickly, standing up and dusting his clean clothes off, desperate for anything to occupy his brain rather than the memories that were starting to come to the surface.  
  
"What are you hiding? What could possibly be so bad in that head of yours that you wouldn't want me to see?" Chris asked now definitely concerned and more than a little curious.  
  
"STAY OUT OF MY MIND!" Brett yelled as he could now feel Chris desperately grabbing at thoughts and memories rather than just reading the surface.  
  
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," Chris soothed. "I won't do it again, I promise." 

A silence filled the air as both boys tried to calm down.  
  
"I'm also sorry for the, uh...the thing I just did to you. You know, for the choking part," Chris said. This time he was the one with the downcast glance, before he looking up and meeting Brett's eyes for the first time since he sent him flying across the room.  
  
Different colors. So...beautiful.  
  
"It's okay," Brett said, with a quiet voice, still greedily breathing the air around him.

Silence drowned the room again.

"I...uh...I'm not going to insult you by trying to apologized right now,...especially not now, when I can't even give you the whole story...or at least my side...about...what happened," his voice, dejected, his eyes,--so pretty--pleading. Chris heart sank a little when he was reminded of what made him so angry.

Hurt, you mean...  
  
Chris opened his mouth to speak, only to find a hand reach out to stop him.  
  
"Before you say anything, no, I don't want to talk about it right now. Not like...this. Just...give me some time so I won't hit you with my thoughts...or worse...start flashing again," Brett said, with a small, self-deprecating laugh.  
  
Chris nodded in understanding and smiled. His smile turned into a grin when he caught the double meaning, and was hit with a pillow right in the face in surprise, before he could orb out or deflect it. When he looked up, he found that Brett had moved to stand next to the couch and away from the door.  
  
"Not that kind of flashing, and you know it!" Brett said, who was now meeting his gaze with a startling—violet?—of his own, desperately trying to keep an indignant expression, hide a grin, and stop blushing, but pathetically failing at all three.  
  
Chris smiled because he did know. Ever since he was little he knew that his friend—his friend?...definitely—wasn't able to control his powers that well, and would always end up projecting a memory if cornered while he was upset or under pressure.  
  
Chris didn't even realize that Brett had already moved to the door until he spoke up.  
  
"Chris...," Brett's voice said, faltering, uncertain, wanting to tell anything, everything, yet...nothing. It finally settled on something.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Wonder what for... Chris merely nodded and gave Brett a small smile, which Brett gladly returned, along with locked grateful, yet such sad eyes, now a deep blue, before he walked out, leaving Chris alone with his jumbled thoughts and confused feelings in the attic.  
  
Things were better when you just hated him...

And when was that?...

* * *

I want to say thank you to everyone who reviewed so quickly. To be honest, I didn't even think that this wouldn't get any reviews because Chris was...well you'll see. I just want to say thank you. I have most of the story done in my mind, but I do want to have your opinions. Please, don't be afraid to drop a suggestion.  
  
Thanks again.  
  
Devil's Arachangel 


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Charmed...  
  
Chapter Three  
  
Sunday 5:07 PM  
  
Piper was in the kitchen when she heard footsteps in coming down from the stairs, even over Phoebe and Paige's rather annoying and quite loud bickering. They were in the conservatory, gossiping and guessing who and, more importantly, what their newest guest was and his possible connection to Chris as well as the family while Piper was preparing dinner.  
  
She listened to the footsteps. They didn't sound like they were that of a normal person's. They seemed heavy and down trodden, worn down. She heard them finally come down from the last railing and then suddenly stop, pausing. It took a while but they started again, slow, but heavy, not really caring if it made a noise.  
  
Or maybe it was because they couldn't help it...  
  
She stopped slicing the meat she'd been carving since even before their mystery guest made his appearance. She quickly, but quietly crossed the dinning room and stopped at the railing to the next room.  
  
"Going somewhere?" she asked, not noticing the sharp intake of breath as he held his side with his left hand.  
  
She did notice how he visibly tensed, just for a second, and then relax again before turning around. "Brett, was it?"  
  
"Yeah," he croaked. "I mean, yes. Yes, my name's Brett, and no, not really. I was just going to step outside for a second, maybe go for a walk. I just needed to clear my head, get some fresh air...you know."  
  
He saw Piper nod. "Yes, yes, I do know," she said in a calculating and knowing voice.  
  
_God, I need to get out of here...or at least a drink..._  
  
He turned around to walk out the door after giving Piper a brief smile, which she returned.  
  
_Three steps...come on. Almost...there. Just keep it together_...

"I was just wondering if you were going to tell us about yourself. Maybe who you are, or what you are...you're connection to Chris...maybe even to us," she said with such cursed, ignorant ease.  
  
_Damn..._  
  
"I...uh...I guess I could tell you some things," Brett said turning around, masking his face with an almost smile. "But, I wouldn't want to tell you too much, and not about certain things..."  
  
Piper raised her eyebrows, just slightly, never breaking her resigned, easy, and most of all, eerie calm. "I don't know how much Chris told you, and I wouldn't want to upset hi—the timeline..."  
  
Piper gave a nod and a small smile, as if prompting him to continue. Neither noticed that Phoebe and Paige had joined them, only they were positioned, side by side, at the frame leading into the living room.  
  
"Well, uh...my name's Brett," he said, starting off quite awkwardly. "I'm a friend of Chris."  
  
_Or...at least I used to be...  
_  
"He...uh...he helped me, growing up, and we were best friends."  
  
Silence.  
  
"You said that he helped you when you were growing up. Does that mean that we know you? In the future, I mean. Do we know you, do we meet? Do we know you well?" Piper asked.  
  
Brett was visibly reluctant before he answered with a curt, "Yes."  
  
"Oh...so that means...that means we meet you before you turn fourteen," Piper stated, almost a question.  
  
Phoebe and Paige stared. Their sister was good at this...  
  
Brett's eyes widened in shock before realization set in. He took a deep breath of air before letting out a heavy sigh. "So...Chris told you..." he said, making a statement/question of his own.  
  
Piper nodded. "Well, yes and no. I—well—my dad figured it out, and then gave me some clues. It wall worked itself out."  
  
"Gr—Victor's here?" Brett asked a bit enthusiastically, sending out clues before he could stop himself.  
  
Piper didn't miss either.  
  
"Um...no...he's still out of town, business trip...but he should be home in a couple of days... Do you plan to stay that long?" she asked, as she saw Brett stiffen. Damn.  
  
"Um...no...I can't. I just came to give Chris something, tell him some stuff. I kind of have to keep moving... Chris isn't the only one Wyatt's desperately after..." he said, letting out a pained laugh.  
  
_If you only knew...  
_  
Piper nodded, only giving a half understanding smile. Wyatt couldn't be evil...  
  
"You said that you and Chris were best friends...what happened?" Piper saw Brett grimace  
  
_How many ways could this answer come out wrong?_  
  
Brett spoke in a pained voice, only half hidden by a quasi-smile. "Uh...stuff happened, I guess... He...believed some things, I believed other... Things came between us..."  
  
_Like a certain blonde..._  
  
"It sounds like you still care about him," she said, in a voice _too _calm  
  
_You have no idea..._  
  
"You could say that," Brett said. "He was, after all, my best friend."  
  
Piper grunted and nodded.  
  
More silence.  
  
"So...uh...I don't mean to be rude, but...uh...what are you?"  
  
_Oh, how many answers would make you disgusted of me...  
_  
"Oh, um...human," he said, giving a small laugh.  
  
"Oh, uh, I guess I deserve that..." she said, laughing, too.  
  
"No, you didn't," he said, a little too quickly, then looked down for a second before forcing yet another smile. "Um...I'm a witch."  
  
Piper nodded. "So...uh...what are your powers?"  
  
Piper saw how Brett seemed to shrink into himself, his face scrunching up as if to keep something from coming out, something that could give any indication of what he really felt. Damn...wrong question.  
  
Brett seemed to relax after a second, as realization dawned on him.  
  
_What are **your** powers...  
_  
"Oh...um...I can create illusions. It sort of runs in the family," he said, with a real smile this time.  
  
"Oh, really. Huh. You mean...like a wizard," Piper asked.  
  
"No, no, not like a wizard. Wizards don't just make an illusion, they partly conjure it, too. For example, food or water. Wizards can create an illusion but make it partially real. My family powers are purely mental, psychic. They just work with the mind, not anything else," Brett finished.  
  
"Hmm. Okay. Uh...can you do anything else?"  
  
_You mean besides—_  
  
"No. No, not really," Bret finished. "Those are my only powers."  
  
Brett studied Piper's face. It hadn't left that smug, knowing, and calculating glance yet. She opened her mouth to speak, but Brett raised his hand.  
  
"I'd be happy to show you," Brett said, finally relaxing now that he wouldn't have to answer anything _too_ draining. Besides, it would be familiar.  
  
"Are you sure you aren't a telepath?" she asked, a playful smile on her lips.  
  
An emotion clouded over the boy's face for the briefest of seconds, but disappeared before she could decipher it.  
  
_Not originally..._  
  
He just laughed as an answer before raising his hands. Suddenly, the whole room—including the foyer and the dinning room turned into the greenest meadow she had ever seen. There were trees, a lake, and so many flowers, even she couldn't identify them all. That's when she noticed she was all alone.  
  
"Brett!" she called.  
  
An echoing voice responded. "I'm here."  
  
"Where are you?"  
  
The voice behind her startled her and she turned around to face him. "In your head." He smiled. "I can make it so we're just in your head, or...sort of...project it so it takes place of the room around you, instead of you just standing still."  
  
She watched as his head cocked, as if listening to something only he could hear.  
  
"Your sisters are wondering what happened to you. Do you want me to show them?" he asked. Piper just grinned.  
  
Brett lifted his hands again and suddenly Piper was standing where she was a second ago, except, now, the illusion had spread all over the rooms. The meadow seemed to stretch for miles and miles, regardless that they were still in the manor.  
  
Paige and Phoebe suddenly appeared out of no where.  
  
"Where is this place?" Phoebe asked.  
  
"Piper? Where are we?" Paige said speaking to her older sister.  
  
"Well, I guess, in the manor," Piper said.  
  
"But, this isn't the manor," said Phoebe.  
  
"Actually, it is," said Brett, Phoebe and Paige barely noticing him.  
  
"Oh, so this is an illusion," Paige stated, looking around, nodding. "It's pretty."  
  
"Thanks," Brett said. "It's the place, I go to or create, whenever I need to relax." His eyes seemed to glaze over for a second, and they became sad. "There aren't many places like this left in the future."  
  
This caught the girls' attention. "I'm sorry," said Phoebe, speaking on behalf of her two sisters, right beside her.

_You would be if you saw it..._  
  
"Don't be. It's not your fault."  
  
_Entirely..._  
  
"Besides, I'm sure Chris can fix it," he finished.  
  
"Still..." Phoebe continued.  
  
"I know...but not _everything_ can be perfect," he answered, giving a sad smile. "Um...I should go. I still need to talk to Chris, but I'd like to get some rest first, or at least some fresh air," Brett finished.  
  
"Oh, we're sorry...for keeping you," said Paige. "Well, that...and for eavesdropping." He saw Phoebe nod. "But, uh...thank you, though...for showing us, anyway."  
  
"It's okay. It was fun," he said again, smiling. A real one. Wow.

Brett raised his hands and the manor dissolved back into their sight. He could hear Paige and Phoebe give small sighs. Piper had a frown.  
  
_Thank God. I was sure that she'd figured something out...  
_  
"Well, I'll be going then. I'll be back in a few. Bye," he said.  
  
"Bye, Brett," Phoebe said, smiling.  
  
"We'll see you later," said Paige, waving.  
  
Brett smiled once more and turned to leave.  
  
_Just one more step..._  
  
Piper's knowing, neutral, almost nostalgic, tone cut through the air.

"You're in love with him, aren't you?"

* * *

Thank you everyone who reviewed. Please, no flames coming from xenophobic homophobes. It is not very nice. And, just so you know, Chris is bisexual, not gay.

For those of you who are bored, I'm sorry. I just have a chapter or a chapter and a half before I explain the situation. There are plenty of shocks coming your way. Don't worry, though. The next chapter will have have the story's first demon attack.  
  
Please, if you have any suggestions, e-mail them to me.


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Charmed...  
  
Chapter Four  
  
Sunday 5:25 PM  
  
Chris had been looking through the Book of Shadows again, sprawled in the same position he was in before he was in before he was interrupted by his fellow time traveler.  
  
There's got to be something in here to expose a secret... Chris had been at it for—about how long now?...25? 30?—minutes looking for something to help him with his problem. What are you hiding...  
  
He was so engrossed in his search that he didn't see a time portal going up and two demons stepping out of it until it was too late.  
  
"Where is Master Brett?!" the demon yelled accusingly.  
  
Chris flicked his wrist to send him flying across the room...but...it didn't do anything. He waved his entire arm now...and still nothing. Panicking, Chris formed two balls of pure white light in his hand and fired it at the demons, which just stood there as the balls seemed to extinguish as they soon as they touched them. Oh God...

* * *

Chris was in trouble. Sunday 5:22 PM  
  
Brett stiffened in mid-step.  
  
Oh, God...  
  
"Uh...but...um...Bianca...wha...huh...," Phoebe trailed off as she was suddenly grasped by Paige, quickly losing enough sense to keep herself up. Paige stood there, staring from Brett to Piper then to Brett again, mouth half way slack-jawed  
  
Brett turned around slowly, his left hand catching his side, his entire body resting on one leg.  
  
Piper held fast with that same unnerving calm. That was the fourth time he did that...  
  
"Uh...wha...how..." Brett gasped, eyes wide with worry and not a few unshed tears.  
  
"It doesn't take a premonition to figure it out." Piper stole a sideway glance at the slowly, but steadily recovering witch before turning her eyes back to the young man in front of her.  
  
"So...you do, don't you?"  
  
"Uh...I...um...heh...uh...what I mea—"Brett answer was thankfully cut off by an explosion in the attic. All four heads turned to where the sound came from.  
  
"Don't just stand there, Paige! Quick! Get us to the attic!" Piper exclaimed as she took her sisters' hands, leaving a wobbly running Brett to run up the stairs.

* * *

Sunday 5:27 PM  
  
Chris was just about to be hit by a fireball when his mom and aunts orbed in.  
  
"Energy ball!"  
  
Instead of orbing to her, the energy ball in question, instead, just curved toward her, forcing her to duck behind the couch, opposite of the wall where Chris lay on the floor, looking slightly exhausted.  
  
"What the fu—"Paige started but was cut off by her sister.  
  
"Vanquish now, cuss later!" yelled Piper. Phoebe ran up to the demon closest to her and levitated to kick, but was only telekinetically deflected away by the demon's partner. The demon then fired another energy ball straight towards Phoebe while she tried using her empathy powers to tap into the demons. Her eyes widened when she found she couldn't. Just when it was about to hit her, she was telekinetically thrown across the room at Piper's feet.  
  
"Why didn't you deflect that?!" Chris yelled, upset that his aunt wasn't thinking clearly.  
  
"Why didn't you?!" she yelled back.  
  
"My powers don't seem to be working on them, not even my Light Bombs!" he yelled.  
  
"They don't have feelings!" Phoebe yelled, before realization kicked in.  
  
"Your what?" Paige and Phoebe asked.  
  
"They're sort of like, pure white energy balls...except good!" Chris grunted as he ducked to escape yet another fireball.  
  
"Um...Hello?! Vanquish _now_, compare _later_!" Piper screamed. 

"It's just that--" Phoebe began.

"What part of the unsaid 'Shut the hell up!,' don't you understand?!" Piper said, cutting her, while helping her up.  
  
"I can't get to the potions!" yelled Paige from a corner of the room, desperately trying to bypass the fireballs that kept coming her way.  
  
"Die, witch!" one of them yelled.  
  
"Piper, blow them up!" cried Phoebe.  
  
"I can't!"  
  
"Then freeze them!"  
  
"I'm trying!"  
  
"Don't bother!" yelled a new voice. Piper turned to see Brett stumble into the attic. "You'll only waste your energy! You can't vanquish them like that! They're immune to Charmed powers!"  
  
The sisters gasped in surprised. Oh, shi—  
  
Chris eyes narrowed. How does he know...  
  
The demons in questioned turned to the new voice. "Aww, there you are," one said with an evil smirk on his red and black face. "Master Wyatt wishes to see you now."  
  
The sisters watched in surprise when both demons appeared to become dizzy and began swooning.  
  
"Break."  
  
The girls turned to look at Brett and noticed that his eyes turned completely white and his hand raised. When they turned back to the demons, they literally dropped to the floor appearing unconscious and lay unmoving for thirty seconds before finally erupting in flames.  
  
"What...what was that?! I thought you only did illusions!" yelled an annoyed, and yet very grateful, Phoebe. Paige put her hands on her hips and a thin scowl formed on her face, and Piper eyebrow just creased, while Brett used the table next to him to help him steady himself while bracing his left hand on his knee in exhaustion.

(_I never said that..._)  
  
"I did!"  
  
(_shi—maybe no one noticed..._)  
  
"I mean, I do!"  
  
(_Crap...you've done it now...maybe they'll just think it was an accident..._)  
  
"That's what happens when I go up against demons. I basically lock them in a mind trick and it's a battle of wills. I make them think that they're being killed by something and, eventually, they believe it and their minds die. Eventually, their bodies stop working and die, too," Brett said easily explaining _his_ power.  
  
(_I wonder if Chris can sense—No! Don't think that, you idiot! He might be able to hear you!_)  
  
"I can."

* * *

Thanks again to everyone who wrote in. This was a short chapter so I should probably be able to type out another one a little after lunch time. I might even write three depending on how long I want to make each chapter in order to keep you in suspense.  
  
I'm always open to suggestions, and you're always welcome.  
  
Hoped you liked it. Please tell me if you did. 


	5. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: If you haven't caught on by now, let me put it this way...if I owned Charmed, Chris would not be pining away for a butch bitch who I would just love to kill and would be with someone ten times more attractive.

* * *

Chapter Five  
  
Sunday 5:32 PM  
  
"Huh, that makes sense," muttered Phoebe, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.  
  
"Wow. That's some wicked power..." replied Paige before she realized her sister had said something. "I'm sorry, what makes sense?"  
  
"You know, his power. It reminds me of that old wives' tale about how you die in your dreams, you die in real life. You know, cause the brain died, you die, except, in his case it's literal. 'Cause you see—Ahhh!" Phoebe screamed as she saw Chris telekinetically throw an obviously exhausted Brett across the room and straight into a bookcase.  
  
"Bastard! What are you hiding?!" screamed Chris, his eyes fuming. They were like daggers and his entire body shook with the rage. His face was red from his anger, his lips so thin, they made nickels look fat in comparison. Gone was there snarky, sarcastic pacifist whitelighter. The person in front of them seemed like an entirely new being. 

Anger incarnate...

"How could you possibly know?!" Paige and Phoebe could only stare at Chris in shock as he hurled an end table unto the hunched figure. Piper's eyes only slightly opened in surprise, now throwing Brett into a table near the window of the attic.  
  
They never saw Chris this mad...  
  
"Tell me! What did you do?!" yelled Chris slamming various books at the hunched over man on the floor. "What the hell did you do?!"  
  
"Chris! Stop it!" Paige said, as disbelief quickly began turning into indignation. "Chris!" she yelled. As she put her hand to his arm, he waved with it and sent her flying into one of the extra couches they just recently brought into the attic.  
  
"Bastard! Tell me!" he yelled as he sent Brett flying across the room and into a wall, his voice growing cold, but still trembling with rage. "...Or should I say '_Bitch_...'" Brett visibly flinched in his hunched over form, pausing briefly in his attempt to stand up.  
  
Piper's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed as the scene unfolded in front of her.  
  
Chris threw a chair onto Brett, as the figure struggled to stand. "How the hell would you know?!" Chris yelled, moments before he sent Brett flying across the room.  
  
"Stop it, Chris! Calm down! What the hell are _you_ doing?! He just saved our lives?!" Phoebe yelled, walking up behind him. "Stop! You're really starting to hurt him!" she screamed, trying to wrap her arms around him and pin them to his sides, but was only sent flying next to the spot where Paige was still getting up from.  
  
"You have no idea what he _did_, what he _is_!" Chris yelled as he turned from his aunts, back to his...fellow time traveler.  
  
"How did you know that Charmed powers wouldn't work on those demons?!" he yelled, hurling Brett into a cabinet. "What are you hiding?!"  
  
(_Damn..._)  
  
"Wait! Chris! I can explain!" grumbled Brett, the hunched over figure groaning, finally making sense of the situation.  
  
"Shut up! Just shut up and answer my question!" Chris yelled, sending Brett flying across the room  
  
"That's ENOUGH!" yelled Piper. All eyes—or those that weren't swelling yet—looked at her and shuddered. Piper seemed to vibrate with anger, yet the only indication of any emotion that one had on her relaxed body was her narrowed, fuming eyes and a thin-lipped scowl. Everyone stood awestruck and immobile. Even Chris, could feel his own anger waning, paling as his mother stood before him. "Paige!"  
  
"Sofa!" Paige yelled, saving Brett from yet another reunion with a wall.  
  
In the midst of all his confusion—_concussion_—Brett obviously didn't sense the slight change in mood, and yelled partially from his delirium and partially in the hopes that the pain would stop...  
  
"BECAUSE WYATT WANTED TO MAKE SURE HE'D ALWAYS BE ABLE TO FIND ME!!!"

* * *

There. Done. It wasn't what I wanted, but it satisfies what I need for the story. I hoped you liked it. I didn't mean to make the chapters this short but my plot just keeps on giving me the best cliff hangers.  
  
Please review. Although I have most of the basic story line done, I wouldn't mind on some input. Please tell let me know if you have any suggestions. Thanks again to all those who reviewed and will review—like buffspike. Thank you for the encouragement. 


	6. Chapter Six

Standard Disclaimer

* * *

Chapter Six  
  
Sunday 5:32 PM  
  
Silence reigned in those precious few minutes. A lot of emotions went through the attic at that moment, the strongest being confusion, then comprehension, and finally grief. After his last declaration and silent plea for mercy from the wrath of a vengeful, yet unknowing, brother and the memories that once again, regardless of how many times he tried to fight it, began to surface.  
  
Realization hit Chris like a Mack truck. The anger returned to this stance, his eyes, his voice, all of them shaking, but this time...this time, sadness, misery, and pain couldn't help but creep into those features as well.  
  
"What happened?! What did you _do_?!" he yelled in his strangled voice, a mixture of definite rage, but with the undertone of grief.  
  
"I'm sorry, Chris," Brett said, sitting, crumpled on the sorry, hallow wooden floor of that attic which now seemed so cold, here in that dark, staring at nothing, seeming as if haunted by something that even those touched by magic couldn't see.  
  
"What happened?! What did you do?!" Chris yelled with frustration now in his tone, the watery eyes still attempting to hold back tears fighting to fall.  
  
"I'm sorry. I tried to tell you earlier, but...everything got so...I tried. God, I tried so hard..." Brett gasped, still looking at figures, voices that weren't there, trapped in something no one else could see, tears freely falling, now, no longer attempted to be held back. "I'm sorry, Chris. I'm so sorry...I tried so hard, but...he was just so strong..." Brett concluded, his voice breaking higher when he finished.  
  
"What happened?! _Who_ did _what_?! What _happened_?!" Chris yelled, impatience claiming him as well, his cheeks wet from tears his body couldn't help but shed.  
  
"He's dead, Chris," Brett said, a voice so lost, so soft, so...not here, along with its owner; stuck in a world, no one else had access to. The certainty and finality and, most of all, plea for apathy in his voice just wouldn't leave. "He's dead. Matt is dead."  
  
"...wha...no...huh...gah...no...uh...no...huh..." Chris grunted, stepping back, acting as if mere space could save him from what was so regretfully revealed to him. His foot caught one of the various books he, just recently, so easily, even earnestly, threw. He tried to right himself, save himself from falling, but fell awkwardly anyway, landing on his end, legs in an awkward position on either side of him as he sank to the floor. Once unbidden tears freely falling now, his head shaking back and forth as if in a 'no' gesture, refusing to believe what he just learned, Chris seemed to be lost in his own world.  
  
"It's true, Chris. Matt's dead," Brett said, certainty and regret equal parts of his tone. For the first time during the exchange, the sisters, confused expressions and all, spoke.  
  
"What happened?" whispered Phoebe, her head cocked slightly to her side in the direction of her sisters, but her eyes never leaving the seen before her.  
  
"Yeah...who's Matt?" Paige asked, her eyes not leaving the two lost souls in front of her either. It was Piper's certain and miserable tone that surprised and snapped them back to her sister, the first time she spoke since her outburst.  
  
"My son..." she breathed out. Phoebe and Paige looked to her in concern, her body calm, relaxed, her face smooth, but wet, and eyes shining and red as tears continued to pour. She wouldn't look at her sisters. She couldn't. "Matt is my son," she tried again, voice unnaturally calm, yet pained at the same time. "Wyatt killed his little brother."  
  
Phoebe and Paige turned back to and sighed, now with newfound sympathy, empathy, and respect, knowing all too well what it felt like to lose a sibling. So they stayed there, all of them, grieving in their own way, lost in the morbidity of it all. How..._right, _how _fitting_, how_ apt_...did it seem to have this secret divulged to them here, in the darkness of an old attic, the same that would lose all its meaning in the next two decades, regardless of its ancestral ties, its heritage?  
  
It was rather poetic...something that would happen only in a fairy tales...  
  
But they all knew...fairy tales had to come from somewhere...  
  
"No," Chris mumbled. Everyone turned at the sudden movement as Chris began to stand up, his stance taking on anger once again, but this time it was laced with a weariness and bitterness that the sisters could never claim they saw before. "No...that can't be. He promised me. HE PROMISED ME!"  
  
"Chris?" Paige asked. Concerned, she stepped forward and lifted her hand to comfort him from behind, only to stop at his suddenly furious expression.  
  
"NO! You did something didn't you?! DIDN'T YOU?!" Chris yelled at the top of his lungs. "Wyatt promised me, no matter what, he would never let _anything_ harm Matt. If there was a fight—," Chris paused to take a much needed deep breath. "—that if it were a fight with demons or monsters or even between us, that he would never let anything happen to Matt..._ever_! So you had to have done _something_!" Chris stepped forward, but Phoebe put a retraining hand on his shoulder reminding him to relax, before he could get too close to the crumpled, sitting form on the floor.  
  
Chris' accusation snapped Brett out of his delusions. "I didn't...I...I...I'm sorry..."  
  
Chris nearly exploded. "You're _sorry_?! How is _sorry_ supposed to fix anything?!" he yelled. "You had to have done something! Because...because why would Wyatt kill his own little brother, a Charmed One?! Why?! _Why_?!"  
  
"BECAUSE OF ME!" yelled the curled figure, unbefitting something that seemed so small, so fragile. He seemed lost in his own world again, staring at the point on the floor, propped up against the wall, arms hugging his knees. "Oh...God..." he sighed, as if barely rediscovering a truth all over again. "Wyatt...killed him because of me..."  
  
"WHAT?!" Chris yelled. Paige now had to help Phoebe hold him back from tackling Brett.  
  
"Wyatt killed him...God...Wyatt killed him. Because of me... I wouldn't—"Brett stammered. Piper noticed how he flinched as he spoke again, eyes once again dazed, remembering something that shouldn't have been. "—_do_ something he told me to do and...oh, God...he found Matt," Brett said, his voice squeaking as he mentioned the name. "He killed him...right in front of me. He—he gave me Matt's powers, made me a Charmed One...b-bb-bound me to him... Oh, God...he killed Matt..."  
  
The sisters' felt their hearts break at that one moment. "I can feel him..." Brett began eyes looking dazed, not focusing on anything, as the tears came. "It's like...h-hh-heh, it's like h-h-he's inside me...God...if you only knew...oh, God!" he shuddered, sobbing.  
  
"I knew it..." whispered Chris. "I knew it. It was your fault... It was all your FAULT!" he yelled, trying desperately to get out of Phoebe and Paige's grasp without hurting them.  
  
"Chris stop, it!" Phoebe cried.  
  
"Yeah, man, pull yourself together!" yelled Paige.  
  
"Let me go! Didn't you hear him?!" he yelled disbelievingly at his aunts. "You heard him! He admitted it himself! It's _his_ fault! It's all _his_ fault!" he yelled, squirming in his aunt's tight embrace.  
  
"That's enough, Chris!" cried Piper. For a brief second, Phoebe and Paige almost let go of Chris, after their nearly unflappable sister snapped. "You know it's not his fault! He's a victim in this, too! Just as much as your brother was! Just as much as you are..." she trailed off, knowing she had hit the nerve of her son's pain. "He's an innocent in all this,"  
  
Chris obviously didn't understand it. "NO! No, I don't know! More importantly, you don't know!" he yelled. "He stopped being an 'innocent' a long time ago!"  
  
This seemed to snap Brett out of his daze. "Please, Chris, don't..." he whispered.  
  
"'_Don't_,' what, Brett?" Chris yelled venomously. "Huh? '_Don'_t,' what? '_Don't_, tell them?' '_Don't_ leave the cap of the toothpaste?' '_Don't_, I want to be alone tonight?' '_Don't_' what, Brett? Huh? '_Don't,_' what?"  
  
"Chris...please—"Brett began, eyes pleading, but unfocused, tears streaming down harder than before, but not sobbing...yet.  
  
"Chris, stop it!" yelled Phoebe, who long ago stood back with Paige as Chris gave up trying to maim Brett and just stood still, voice like ice.  
  
"You have no idea what he did, what he did!" yelled Chris back. Turning back to Brett, Chris' voice was nothing but merciful. "'_Please_,' what, Brett? '_Please_,' what? '_Please_ go get me some milk?' '_Please_, leave me alone?' '_Please_, go away, I have to do someo—I mean, something, private?" he sneered.  
  
"Stop it, Chris!" yelled Paige, angry for the first time in this conversation. "I mean it! Leave him alone!"  
  
"Please, Chris, don't...don't..." Brett said, scrambling and rocking away from whatever he was staring at on the floor.  
  
"The truth is, Brett," Chris said, voice soft and deadly. "You deserved it. You deserve what you chose..."  
  
Brett's eyes widened and the twenty-something year old started scrambling, scratching anything to get away.  
  
"Chris, stop it, or I swear I'll become a god again just so I can kick your ass!" yelled Phoebe, in tears.  
  
"You deserve everything you got! It's just not fair that Matt was killed, all because you were too self-centered to make a stupid decision! It's your fault! It's all _your_ fault! You deserve everything you got, everything you chose!"  
  
Brett appeared to come out of his reverie, pleading. "Chris, please...I can explain..."  
  
"Chris, that's ENOUGH!" yelled Piper herself, enraged beyond belief.  
  
"Hah, '_explain_?'" Chris laughed, shaking his head disbelievingly, not listening, nor caring to what his mother said. "'_Explain_?' I don't want any of your _explanations_!"  
  
"Chris...I'm sorry—"Brett tried, but was cut off.  
  
"Save your 'sorry's!'" Chris yelled. "I don't care! You chose, and now your getting what you deserve. This is all your fault! There's nothing left to _explain_!"  
  
"No, Chris, you've got it all—"Brett tried.  
  
"Chris! I'm serious! That's _enough_!" Piper yelled.  
  
"No, _you're_ wrong! I know _everything_ that happened!"  
  
"CHRIS!" yelled Piper, desperate to stop him before he made an even bigger mistake.  
  
"You cheated on me with _Wyatt_!!!"

* * *

I want to thank you, all those who review. It really keeps me going. I hope you stick around. This is going to get brutal...really brutal. Hang on. It's sad, dramatic, and lovely...if you let it. Please keep those reviews coming. I'm up for any suggestions if you want to throw any in.

I plan to write at least one story per day, so... Also, if you have a question on the story, please feel free to ask.

Again, thank you.


	7. Chapter Seven

Standard Disclaimer  
  
Chapter 7  
  
Sunday 5:45 PM  
  
A silence was raised through the attic at the fuming whitelighter's last declaration. No one moved. Nothing made a sound—it wouldn't dare—except for the shallow gasping breaths of the crumpled boy in near the wall of the attic.  
  
Paige noticed the breathing and silently wondered how Chris could be so insensitive he could be right now. The afternoon had unexpectedly shocked her. One minute, she was finally relaxing after a long week of temp jobs, when suddenly another just-happened-to-be lost soul/future boy came running out of yet another time portals. This week was too tiring as it was, without magic butting in right now, on her _only_ day off. At least they weren't talking about future secrets or future consequences yet.  
  
Now was _so_ not the time for a headache, especially when they were running low on Aspirin... You'd think Charmed Ones would know better...  
  
She stole a glance at Phoebe. Paige's face contorted when she realized that Phoebe was staring awkwardly at Chris, as if willing him to calm down or "talk."  
  
Her sister could be so annoying sometimes.  
  
Paige stood there, disbelievingly, willing Phoebe to look at _her_. How could she _possibly _side with Chris right now?! Sure, she loved her nephew...and she could understand how he would be angry at Brett for cheating with Chris' own brother (which was a number of things: ew, scary, ew, gross, ew, nearly unforgivable, and, oh yeah, ew!), but no one deserved to be sent flying across the a room an innumberable amount of times and beaten to a bloody pulp because of it!...well...no one who seemed as sincere as Brett was when he (_at least_) tried to apologize.  
  
Paige stole a glance at her other sister. Piper's eyes were closed. She seemed to be taking long relaxing breaths, but were careful as to not let anyone really hear her, indicating just how close to being seriously angry again. This was a good thing. An anger Piper is a violent Piper, and, as blessed as Leo was with healing, Paige wasn't sure just how too well his powers worked on missing body parts or disassembled molecules.  
  
The abrupt scream of anguish pierced through all her thoughts as she found herself back in the attic.  
  
But...was she? Paige realized that she hadn't noticed that the attic had dissolved into a rather lavish room, seemingly outside the manor and a part of another building entirely, not unlike the former apartment Phoebe had shared with her former lover, the lawyer/Source of All Evil. Paige couldn't help but smirk a little at the thought of his job being so aptly matching his title.  
  
She was the first to recover. "Where are we? What happened?"  
  
Chris' reluctant voice spoke low and breathy. "He's flashing," he almost sneered, obviously not glad that he had to be here at the moment. Paige noticed his entire tense as he thought about what to tell them.  
  
Phoebe blinked. "Come again?"  
  
She noticed Chris voice didn't change from his last attempt at civil speech...keeping in mind, of course, that she too was pissed off when she found out that a particular lying jerk had also been cheating on her (well...technically, she was the other woman..._but, but, but, she_ didn't know about his wife until it was too late...so...you know, not her fault) not too far back in the past, and so gave him a little slack for going uber-postal on a certain chestnut haired boy, that, surprisingly, was no where to be seen.  
  
"I said that Brett was flashing...or flashbacking," Chris sighed, annoyed and—was that hurt he was trying to hide so well?—obviously warring on how much to tell them. "Ever since we were little, whenever Brett got to upset, he would flash into a memory and replay it. He doesn't realize he's doing it until after it's already played out. Usually, it was a good way for us to find out if he was hiding anything or if anyone was hiding stuff from him or anyone else that was there with him when the memory took place."  
  
Paige could have sworn that there was just a hint of returning warmth in his voice until and a small smile fighting for control on his lips before the scowl won the battle and his voice returned to its apathetic tone after Paige asked her question.  
  
"He's usually not in his own flashes," Chris answered. "His subconscious is what takes over and is the one responsible for projecting his 'memories,' not him. He explained it to me once. There was something about how it worked like the brain did, how when you don't want to remember something or when something becomes too painful, your consciousness is pulled into your brain to stop the thinking. Brett's powers make it work differently or something and instead, cast the image forth, outside of his brain, instead of him having to replay it in his mind... He said it was, like, a preventative measure for brains...so they wouldn't go crazy or something. That's about all I know. He can tell you the rest after he wakes up."  
  
Paige bit her tongue at his cool tone. God, couldn't he care just a little bit more. The poor guy was trying not to go insane here! Not to mention, he (probably) feels guilty for Matt's life (hmph...I wonder if matt is as neuroutic as his brother....hmm...anyway...), _and_ he has to deal with his _ex_! A little _sympathy_, some _understanding_, would be nice!

God, was that ever the understatement of the year...  
  
She scoffed before rolling her eyes and studying at the scene around her, obviously having a little time before the memory started to replay for her.

* * *

I'd like to thank **Kalinara** for e-mailing me. I realize some of you may be frustrated with how the characters are responding and think that the characterization might be off. Please bear with me. Sad to say is that we are _still_ in the exposition area of my story. We have barely come to see the odd behaviours of the characters and have not been told anything else to prove what their _real_ thoughts are beneath the surface. In fact, we have not really covered what the main story is about. I mean, surely, you can see the main _problem_ surfacing (fighting Wyatt, of course) but you've yet to see any bit of the real part of the story. Again, please bear with me. Patience is a virtue and, unfortunately, I enjoy using subtlety more then anything else, so...  
  
Also, this is not a Marty Stu fic! (God, I hate those!) I repeat, this is _**not**_ a Marty Stu (male version of a Mary Sue) fic! It just seemed to start that way...  
  
The next two or three chapters will cover Phoebe's, Piper's, and Paige's reaction to Brett's flashbacks, and I promise to write them as quickly as possible. Please stay tuned...and review.

Thank you.


	8. Chapter Eight

Standard Disclaimer  
  
Chapter Eight  
  
Sunday 5:45 PM  
  
Something was wrong. It was frickin'...5:45 PM!, and something was wrong. Great. Just great. Ugh. Bright and cheery in the face of some ass backwards problem was _so_ not her thing...(people always seemed to see right through it, anyway...or not care...). She needed some aspirin...or a drink, _because _they were out of aspirin.

You'd think the Charmed Ones would know better...  
  
Today just couldn't get worse, could it? The week with Elise was bad enough, but _nooooo,_ there just had to be _something_ to make it worse on Sunday, her _only_ day off. Not to mention the fact that she still had about a week's worth of mail to sort through and _at least_ a column and a half to catch up, and it's not like the demons were letting up either.  
  
And now, _now_ she has yet _another_ problem on her already long list of things to do! Great. She needed this the same way she needed Cole to come back from the dead...again.  
  
Oh! Don't think that...he just might...  
  
She looked at Chris is consternation. Something there was up. He didn't act like this. He was bitchy and snarky and a general pain in the... But, he didn't act like this...well except that time last week, after Leo goaded him. But that's just the thing, he was already really mad at Leo, and _still _he needed to be goaded to cause the historical eruption of Mt. Saint Chris... There was something wrong here, something she was missing. This wasn't just an old time lover's spat. No, something big must have happened, something bad. She swore, she could almost feel some...pain?...off of him. Could it be? Chris Peregrine Halliwell Wyatt actually had _emotions_?! The last time she was able to feel something from him was that thing with Bianca, but, than again, that was when he was less than conscious. If something was bothering him now, whatever it was, it was stronger than whatever feelings he had when Bianca came...intresting...  
  
She didn't want to look at Paige. She knew her sister was shooting her disbelieving glances (not to mention daggers), but... Paige just didn't see that something else was wrong here. Don't get her wrong, Phoebe cared about the new future boy as much as the next sister, but family comes first. Phoebe knew that Paige loved her nephew, secretly admired and adored him even, but she also knew that Paige was so gung ho on saving the innocents, and (probably) just didn't like the way Chris just beat up the poor guy.  
  
If the situation were lighter, she would have laughed at that. The rationalization just _didn't_ make much sense. If anything, it was because Paige was secretly annoyed at him for keeping secrets, keeping a tight lip on the future, _and_ making them tired from going on the constant, rather more vigourous, demon hunts he was putting them on recently.  
  
Subtle, Paige. Real subtle.  
  
Was it her imagination, or was he rushing with the demon hunting? If she didn't know any better, she would have sworn he had, like, some sort of deadline...  
  
She didn't look at Piper. She knew that Piper would be trying to control herself. What she didn't know was what Piper was _really_ feeling. She knew she was mad, but...mad at whom? Mad at Brett, Chris...the situation? Something told her that Piper probably saw something there that she didn't, and, if Piper was able to find out all that stuff earlier, then she probably had an idea on what was going on now.  
  
So...no. She wouldn't focus on anything else but Chris right now. Something was up and, by God, she swore she would find out what. She was barely phased by the scream that erupted from the shady character on the floor (she didn't trust him, regardless of what she made it seem like, especially now that she knew he cheated on her nephew...even though, technically, it was with her other nephew, but that was something she so didn't want to get into right now). She was, however, momentarily concerned about their new surroundings.  
  
Huh, illusion...so that's what they were talking about... It was just all too déjà vu for her. Penthouses that looked like they were given to lawyers always seemed to freak her out now...but...  
  
No, right now she was concerned for Chris. She heard faint grumbling, something Paige asked, and saw Chris answer. She didn't care what the question or the answer was (she'd just get it from Paige, later on, anyway) and focused more on _how_ he answered. She took in the sneer, the almost laugh, but she also, heard something underneath that...was that...pain he was hiding? The way his entire body tensed in response to the situation didn't exactly help him on the—she wasn't certain that it was an act. In fact, she could just be paranoid and seeing things that weren't there—act he was trying to emit, nor the cocky, smartass exterior she knew he always seemed to put up as a mask or barrier to hide what he really felt and what he _wanted _them to see. She had to be certain.  
  
"Come again?" she asked.  
  
This time, when he answered, she saw how his entire body moved with gesticulations and hand movements, emphasizing his points. It then that she was glad she took those psych and communication classes in college and how they covered nonverbal communication. He was unwittingly trying to distract Paige (probably myself, too, even if I wasn't paying attention) from looking at his face.  
  
You sneaky, sneaky bastard...  
  
For a brief second, she saw how his eyes glazed over, and his voice get a tad bit warmer, almost nostalgic, the smallest of smile grace his lips, before he just suddenly seemed to stop all emotion.  
  
Damn! He was getting too good at that...  
  
The infamous scowl she saw him carry around seemed to come back faster than she could have known they could and seemed to impossibly get sharper, deeper. She heard his attempt at an apathetic tone, but she couldn't help but hear the undercurrent of emotion beneath his voice. He was schooling his emotions now, so she couldn't feel much anymore, but she could get a slight sliver here or there, plus, the undertone in his voice was a dead give away. Aside from the anger and rage, she could make out pain, hurt, sorrow, betrayal, and...was that...disappointment?, from the wisps she was allowed to see, feel.  
  
What shocked her was that, it wasn't just disappointment in Brett...no. It was disappointment in his self.  
  
Insert sound of record scratching here. Where the _hell _did that come from? Also, hmmm...interesting...  
  
She was forced to look away as a man walked into the bedroom through door she just so happened to stand in front of. She stepped out of the way, and crossed to Chris' other side, away from her sisters, and studied his face, his posture, his entire body as his eyes focused on the man passed in front of him. She let herself glance at him, too, but looked away when she realized she didn't recognize him, but she did find it rather odd how he stepped into a darkened corner, obviously trying to stay out of sight in the lavish room. Phoebe turned back to study Chris, and noticed how his entire body tensed again, his hands, clenching and unclenching, and his scowl, firmer than ever before. She could sense a hint of anger coming from him, as he stared at the floor. She turned to look at the blonde man again, then faced Chris once more, and sighed.

Something was going on with him and she felt bad because he felt bad...well that and the fact that she couldn't figure it out even with her empathy and premonitions. She really wanted to help her nephew, but, let's face it, he's not exactly the most forthcoming with his "feelings" or "secrets" (Damn, he was annoying!).

God, _that_ was an understatement...

She shook the thought from her mind and focused on him again and sighed.  
  
Yep, this was _juuust _what she needed.


	9. Chapter Nine

Standard Disclaimer  
  
Chapter Nine  
  
Sunday 5:54 PM  
  
_Flashback begins...  
_  
A man in all black walked into the room and quickly surveyed it before nodding, obviously satisfied at whatever he wanted to see, silently close the door, and went to stand in a darkened corner of the room.  
  
Around two minutes later, a second man with familiar chestnut hair and multicolor eyes tentatively stuck his head into the room. Seeing that it was supposedly empty, he opened it and quickly walked in before taking great care into closing it quietly. He surveyed the room carefully, and seeing that it was empty, decided that now was the best time.  
  
He hastily crossed over to an armoire on the left side of the bed and started hurriedly started to rifle through it.  
  
"What are you doing?" a cold voice said. "The gala is downstairs. I'm sure our guests must be missing you."  
  
The dark haired man quickly turned around, eyes wide and shocked, clearly surprised to be caught, even as the wall shifted until it revealed the blonde man, who seemed to appear out of no where.  
  
"Nothing," he answered nervously, stammering slightly, his voice a little too innocent. "I was just...uh...I was just trying to find a new shirt."  
  
The other just stared at him. At the blonde man's stare, the shorter just opened his blazer to reveal a perfectly fine shirt.  
  
"I was startled when the Miraox demons put on the fire show and I spilled some red wine on my shirt," he said, his voice only slightly wavering. "I was standing a little too close to a Harpy and her claw cut the back of my slacks," he said as he motioned to the seat of his pants. "I just came up to get some clothes from your closet. I...uh...I know how much these things mean to you...h-h-how...how I shou...how I should look."  
  
The blonde man grinned as he saw how the other acted around him, obviously taking pleasure from his little power trip.  
  
"Oh...alright. There should be at least _some_ clothes for you in there," he replied.  
  
He turned and opened the door and could almost hear the other man fight to sigh in relief, seconds before he started hearing the sounds of metal and plastic rub against each other from the armoire.  
  
"Oh, and, Brett?" he asked sweetly. He saw the other completely tense.  
  
He knew he was in trouble now...  
  
The chestnut haired boy turned to face the taller man. If you ever try to run away again..." he paused, and suddenly a boy, not much younger than he was, materialized, bruised and bloody, pulled flush against the taller man's body, bony and cut hands clawing, gripping the arm that held him in a choke hold.  
  
"Oh, my God! Matt!" the chestnut haired boy yelled as he started towards the boy held fast in the other man's grasp, only to be telekinetically thrown across the room, back hitting a mirror, then crumpled to the floor as shards of glass started to fall around him.  
  
"If you ever, _ever_ try to run again, more than just _him_—"the blonde man paused to shake the boy firmly before turning to look at the other on the floor. "—will die."  
  
"Brett? Is that—"  
  
The gasp was what made the shorter man look up. His eyes watered and his throat became tight. He watched as the now dead body unceremoniously slump to the floor as the blonde man callously cleaned the blood off the athame he just used as a murder weapon.  
  
"How could you?" he asked in a whisper, eyes spilling tears that didn't want to be let go, before his voice seemed to pick up. "Bastard, how could you?! He was your BROTHER! What happens to your precious Charmed Ones now, you idiot?! God, you killed your own _brother_!" he yelled, his teeth gritting, as he tried to rush the other man, completely forgetting that he and his powers were free right now.  
  
The blonde man just waved his hand at the upcoming attack and sent the shorter man back into the armoire, completely breaking it, and pushing it back into the wall.  
  
"It's Lord Wyatt to you, _bitch_," the blonde man sneered at the hunched over form of the man in front of him. "If you ever try to trick me with one of you illusions again, I'll make sure you'll never be able to focus enough to do so. If you ever try to humiliate me by even _attempting_ to escape, I'll make sure I double the...heh...'_guards_' around your room and personally kill Alden _and_ his family myself...and I promise that it will be nice and _slow_."  
  
The dark haired man shuddered as he thought about what the situation would feel like as images already started to invade his mind. He looked up at where the voice was supposedly coming from and was startled to see no one there, until he felt two hands grab his arms and force him to stand, pulled flush against a broad chest, his arms immobile as another arm curled around him, pinning them to his side.  
  
"As for Matt being my brother...well, they don't last forever..." The chestnut haired boy could feel rather than see the smile that graced the other's face as it kissed the back of his neck and hair.  
  
He shook.  
  
"And, as for destroying the Charmed Ones..."  
  
The boy tensed slightly before feeling something sharp pierce his back and straight through his stomach, as he fought to stop the yelp of pain playing on his lips.  
  
"...now...who said anything about destroying the Charmed Ones?" the blonde boy asked innocently.  
  
The brunette could feel the energy leaving him slowly, being sucked into the cold steel that invaded his body, even as his blood began to seep into the floor. The sharp twist of the knife made him start, and this time, he couldn't help but let out a scream.  
  
He felt the knife gently slip out of him and a slight glow filled his back as the process of healing began.  
  
It stopped before it could fully be healed, but at least it wasn't mortal now.  
  
Gasping for air, the shorter man began sinking to the floor, the only thing keeping him up was the arm of the man who stabbed him. Tears started to flow now, freely, and he knew that it would at least be awhile before he had the energy to sob again.  
  
He was confused when he felt the knife's handle being crushed into his palm, even until his palm seemed to burn with the sensation as it crept up his arm and spread through his body.  
  
Exhausted, he slipped out of the other's grasp and slid to the floor, words breezing at his ears.  
  
"Even if you try to run now, I'll always be able to find you. I've bound you to me, Brett."  
  
The next words were clear, even as sleep was already claiming its territory, haunting him in his dreams then and even now.  
  
"You're mine..."  
  
_End flashback._

* * *

I apologized to everyone who thought that this chapter would be anything more than you thought it would be. I don't want Chris nor the girls to find out more about Brett until later, basically because I don't feel that it's time to give away any of Brett's bigger secrets or agendas.  
  
Please review and e-mail suggestions.  
  
Thank you for reading. 


	10. Chapter Ten

Standard Disclaimer  
  
Chapter Ten  
  
Sunday 6:01 PM  
  
She breathed. In. Out. In. Out. In...blood going out. NO! No, she had to focus. She had to keep things fine. Sh-sh-ssh-she had to keep everything going. It was fine. It was fine. It will be fine. It's okay. Everything will be okay. Calm down. Calm down. Can't blow something up. Can't blow something up. Must not blow something. Must not, under any means, blow something up! Can't cry, either. Can't cry. Can't cry. Can't cry....don't cry.  
  
She blinked back tears of frustration and rage and pain and sorrow.  
  
Ssh-sh-ssh-she was the eldest. She had to set an example. She h-ha-haad- had P-PPP-PP-Prue's place now. She was the eldest. She had to set an example. She can't fall apart. She had to help her family. She had to protect her family. She had a job to do. She—she—she... She was...eldest. She...set an example. Was...eldest. Set...an example. Was eldest. Was eldest. Was eldest. Set an example. Was eldest. Set example. Was eldest. Was eldest. Set example. Was eldest. Set example...can't fall apart...  
  
Oh, God...  
  
One son was evil, one's body and soul were gone and the only thing left lies inside a stranger who was laying on the floor of the cold floor of her attic, and the other w-ww-wa-was trying his best to n-nn-nnn-not go insane now, too. Ooooh...  
  
Like mother, like son...  
  
But...no. She was the eldest. She had to set an example. She had to take care of her family. She had to...she had to...  
  
Fix immediate problem first. Fix...immediate...problem...first. She stared at her sisters, son, obviously the first trying to recover from what they just saw, and the man-boy she saw across the room, now in rags that looked like they were once curtains, face bloody and bruised yellow, obviously healing, hair mussed up witch mud and dirt lay caked in it.  
  
She quickly crossed the room and felt for a pulse on his neck.  
  
"Is he alive?" Phoebe's tentative voice asked through the air.  
  
"Yeah, but barely," she whispered back. "Paige, can you orb to the kitchen and get a clean cloth and a bowl of water? I need to clean his cuts and this stab wound as soon as possible, before any signs of infection start," she said as she removed the rags covering the boy's figure and winced as she gazed at his left flank side to reveal a ripped open, obviously self- stitched wound.  
  
"Sure," Paige said, sympathy as well as curiosity in her voice. "How did you...?"  
  
"He grabbed his side at least seven times before he came up here to destroy the demon," she said coolly, her eyes never leaving the boy's body.  
  
"I'll be right back," was all Piper heard before she heard the all too familiar jingle of orbs as she left for the kitchen.  
  
"Phoebe?" she asked, looking up for the first time to see her sister furiously blink back the rest of the tears that wanted to fall, as she wiped the ones that did with her sleeves. "Can you look for healing potions, balms, draughts, whatever, in the Book? Anything that we could use on cuts, bruises, broken bones, burns, anything like that? I don't want to call Leo unless we absolutely have to. Besides, I, uh, I have to call Max and tell him to go ahead and open the club without me. I can't risk closing the club tonight. Sarah McLachlan is coming."  
  
"Sure," was the only answer she received.  
  
She stood up and walked over to her second son and called out to him.  
  
"Chris? Chris? Hey," she said, as she stroked his arm. His eyes came back from wherever it was he was staring off to and settled on his mother.  
  
"Yeah?" he croaked, eyes blinking back tears and hands clenching and unclenching, struggling between which emotion was stronger: rage or pain.  
  
"Chris, I know this can't be easy for you, and after what you've just seen and what just...happened...between you and, uh, Brett, I kind of want to make sure you're alright before anything happens—"  
  
"I'm fine," he said, his voice wavering slightly, cutting her off. "I'm fine."  
  
"You don't sound fine," she said, as she gestured to his, now, shaking body. "And, you don't look it, either." Piper's face softened and she took his face into both her palms and looked into his pained and confused eyes with her own. "Go. Get some breathing room. Calm down. Relax. I can't have you having an emotional breakdown right now. Between you and me, one of us might snap and accidentally break something or vanquish one of your aunts," she said with a smile, but was only half joking. "I'm going to need you to calm down and stay sane for me before anything else happens, okay?"  
  
"Yeah...yeah," he agreed, head nodding, voice shaking, but his eyes always steady with hers. He smiled a pained smile. "Thanks, Mom."  
  
"Anytime, sweeie. Remember. I love you," she said, as she hugged him. "Now, go. I promise to call if I need you," she said, playfully shoving him a little, with a smile, which he returned with a slightly brighter, less pained one, before orbing out. "And come back sober!"  
  
Her smile vanished when the reality of the situation showed itself again.  
  
"Phoebe?" she asked, waiting until her sister looked up before she continued. "I need to go make that phone call," she said tiredly. "Can you and Paige take care of him until I get back?"  
  
"Of course," Phoebe said, a look of understanding passing between her and her sister. "Take your time."  
  
"Thanks," muttered Piper, as she stumbled down the hall, fighting bittersweet tears from falling down her cheeks.  
  
No. She needed to stay strong. She needed to save her family. She needed to protect her family. She had to stay strong. _They_ needed her to stay strong.  
  
She just needed to get to her room. She just needed to be in the safety of her own room where no one could see her and then she could let the tears come.  
  
She wanted...no...needed...and went to go get reacquainted with the toilet like she did when Prue died (oooh) and the rare times when she felt bad enough to get drunk, like that one time, when Paige was still new.  
  
She needed the drink she'd been wising she had since the beginning of this week's supernatural interruption of their lives right now, too, seeing as how they were out of aspirin.  
  
You'd think the Charmed Ones would know better...  
  
She just needed to hold it together just a little while longer. She was almost to her room. A couple more steps and she could let the tears and pain she'd been pushing down since she sensed something was wrong finally come out. A couple more steps, and she could finally let herself feel.  
  
Then...then she could cry her heart out. She could cry and cry and cry until she was too tired to. Then she'd get up, put her mask back on, perk up her bravado, and suck it up.  
  
She could do this. She could fill Prue's shoes. She could support her family. She could get them out of this situation, just like all the other ones.  
  
What she couldn't do was fail her sons...

* * *

I wanted to base this Piper's character of what the Witchstock episode and what everyone has been singling on for Piper (that she has to be the oldest sister now) and thought it would be a nice way to depict her. She's my favorite of the sisters because she's funny, witty, tempermental, loyal, and just as sarcastic as her son. 

I hope you're enjoying it so far.

Thank you.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Standard Disclaimer  
  
Chapter Eleven  
  
Sunday 2:00AM  
  
This was all...too much. It was all just TOO MUCH. The memories were eating him alive. It hurt so _much_. He couldn't get away. Shadows, memories kept rushing back at him. Things he buried in his subconscious a long time ago, now came flooding back, and now...now everything hurt even more. Matt was gone, Bianca's gone...Brett's here... It was just too much.  
  
Throwing his hands up in the air, he finally got up from the curled up position he sat in and gave into the temptation of pacing, desperately holding back tears that just wouldn't stop trying to fall. Gripping his hair to the point that it might almost fall out, he kept walking. At least the hole he put in the ground after he was done would keep him busy after a while. It's just...it...  
  
It shouldn't be this way. Matt was _supposed _to be alive. He was _supposed _to be focusing on saving his big brother from turning evil. He was _supposed_ to be saving the world. He was _supposed_ to be saving all of history...  
  
He was supposed to _only_ hate Brett.  
  
And he does...or...at least he thought he did. Eight hours and one minute ago, he would have sworn on any Book of Shadows, by pain of death or the binding of his powers, that he hated the traitorous bastard who turned on him nearly six years, ten months, two weeks, four days, and five hours ago.  
  
_Flashback  
_  
He opened the front door of the Halliwell mansion and tried to slip past the, more or less, close family friends, thanking them for showing and for offering their congratulations to his and Brett's anniversary. Of course, it wasn't an anniversary _party_—they were _way_ too young for one of those—but the way everyone _knew_ it was their anniversary was something in and of itself...he'd never say it, especially because he knew he'd probably get hit by Brett, but...he liked the way their friends remembered and seemed to accept it, accept them. He liked the way it reminded him that not everything had to turn out bad, or that not everything one had, they had had to fight for. He liked the way Brett's eyes greedily lit up when everyone got out their "secret" or "surprise" presents.  
  
He dodged a few more people, fighting the urge to orb or try and break through the binding potion to see if invisibility was one of his powers—but, he didn't want anyone to think that he was trying to avoid them, though...or that he was desperate to get to Brett.  
  
He was _so_ excited. Brett had been hinting for weeks. Chris knew that Brett had inherited tons of money since his parents died, but Chris didn't feel right taking the money for a mini-honeymoon, especially since...Mom died and Wyatt was named Brett's official guardian, who used the money to pay for things around and the house's mortgage, seeing as how all of them were still in school, and Wyatt was the only one who was eighteen.  
  
_But_, he didn't have to feel bad now. Sure, it took him some time, but, Chris spent weeks saving up at his after school job, sometimes going overtime, until he finally saved up enough money to rent them, at least, a couple days worth of a stay at an inn or motel or a slightly cheaper hotel...in Hawaii. Ever since he was little and, regretfully, accidentally stepped into a very awkward conversation between his Mom and one of her friends, who were exchanging honeymoon stories, Chris always wondered what Hawaii would be like...and, now, he'd know because he'd be _there_. Better yet, he'd be_ there_ with_ Brett_. It was like a dream come true...for both of them.  
  
He finally made it through the throng of people who were congregating in little groups throughout the entire first floor, and made his way to the kitchen. He knew that was where Brett would most likely hide, seeing as how the stairs to the second floor were being blocked and he didn't have the power to teleport in any way like the rest of the Halliwell brood.  
  
"Brett, you'll never believe what I just did! I booked us..." he trailed off as he pushed the swinging door into the kitchen where he found his lover, his best friend...in the arms of his brother.  
  
"Ahh. Chris. You're home," Wyatt said nonchalantly after pulling away from his kiss with Brett.  
  
Chris could feel the water prick at his eyes. He fought to keep them and the hollow in his heart in check at least until after the party...or until he could slip out when no one noticed.  
  
"Chris..."  
  
The voice shattered the mental image that kept playing again and again. He finally looked at Brett and could make out something in his eyes. The only problem was he couldn't decide if he saw in them was sadness or pity. He realized that it didn't matter as the rest of his world came crashing down.  
  
"I...uh...I'll be in our—my room," Chris said beginning to turn.  
  
"Chris," Brett yelped, pleadingly, but stopped when Wyatt put a possessive arm around his waist, hinting at something that Chris knew was beyond a mere kiss.  
  
His chest clenched. It made his stomach flip when he noticed how perfectly they fit together, looked together. He could barely hold the tears back before he turned around to walk out.  
  
"You go ahead and do that," Wyatt said coolly. And, before Brett could say a word of protest, he orbed out to the room he, now, _used _to share with Brett, and the thought made him breakdown. The dam that held all the tears finally broke and he couldn't stop it anymore. He lied there and cried, allowing himself to fall asleep, knowing that it would at least be a couple of hours until the party was over and they could have their confrontation. It just hurt too much to stay awake.  
  
_End flashback_  
  
He remembered the fight they had later on that night. He remembered how much he was torn between strangling Brett and wrapping his arms tight around the younger male. He remembered yelling insults only half meant. He remembered crying angry tears. He remembered looking at the other with disgust and betrayal, and though he couldn't help it, pain. He remembered being deaf to pleas of understanding. He remembered orbing out when the other started crying harder than he did. He remembered thinking things were off while he stood at his favorite thinking spot, the field where he and Brett first met, like he had done so, so many times before.  
  
And, even now, if he let himself think about it, it just didn't make sense. It still didn't make sense. For a long time now, he would have sworn Brett had definitely didn't like Wyatt, and then to find him in Wyatt's arms just...didn't add up. But, like always, before he could ever really think about it, the pain just came again, and now even more so because now...now, Matt was dead.  
  
Oh, God. Not him too. Please, not him, too.  
  
He was the last of their family, besides Wyatt and himself, and the idea of him not being that anymore just...it...just hurt so much. This was all too much for him to handle right now. He needed...he needed to do something, to hit something, to drown his sorrows, just do something.  
  
_Chris_, he heard someone say in the back of his mind. _Chris, are you there?_  
  
"Mom?" he asked out loud.  
  
_Chris, I know you can hear me, but you don't have to come home_, she said quickly. _I just wanted to know if you're okay. Please, send something, a sign or an object so I know that you're fine and you're listening._  
  
Chris pondered for a minute before writing something on a napkin and orbing it away to his mom.  
  
_The triquetra. Cute. Funny_, she said, her voice even sad in his head._ Listen, I just wanted to say that...uh...I know that his might be awkward for you.  
_  
Understatement of the year...  
  
_And...that it must hurt, everything you just found out right now, the people who came back, but I wanted you to know that...I love you. I love you, and you're aunts love you, and that we're here for you._  
  
He let the dam break.  
  
_I moved the good towels to the third locker from the right. There should also be some soap and shampoo there. Of course, I don't know if you can shower using a sink, but you're welcome to try._  
  
He chuckled, even if it was only slightly and the joke was corny.  
  
_I had your father change the couch in the back room after you moved into the house. You know, just in case you wanted to...just in case you felt uncomfortable. It folds out now, and it's actually pretty comfy. Even you're Aunt Phoebe would sleep on it._  
  
He chuckled at the thought of his aunt "roughing it."  
  
_..._  
  
_I hope you don't...but...there's aspirin in the second drawer of my office desk. Max should have kicked everyone out by now, and should be starting to close. Just tell him not to worry about the alarm since you're there and you might accidentally set it off yourself...don't feel bad, I don't know how it works either.  
_  
He smiled in spite of the tears.  
  
_Just...promise me, Chris, that you don't do anything too stupid. I...I want to see you in one piece tomorrow...preferably not after I summon you from your grandmother.  
  
..._  
  
_Well, that's all I got to say right now. I love you, sweetie._  
  
"I love you, too, Mom."  
  
_Goodnight._  
  
"Goodnight, Mom," he sighed, feeling the mind that touched his slip away again. He got up from the position on the floor he didn't know he sunk down to and crossed the floor of one of the storage rooms. He said goodnight to Max, told him he was spending the night, and ambled up to the bar. Hesitating for a moment, he surveyed the bottle he picked up without really paying attention to the words printed on it. Shaking his head, popped open the bottle and tilted his head back, downing the drink quickly. The first of many that night. 


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve  
  
Monday 1:50 AM  
  
"I think I stopped the bleeding," said a kneeling Paige, when Piper made it back into the room.  
  
"That's great. For a while there, I didn't think we could get in contact with the nymphs long enough for them to give us a drop of spring water," she said as she sat down on the sofa. Being pregnant tended to tire someone out, regardless of how powerful the baby would be when it grew up.  
  
"Yeah, we were lucky that they didn't go running off into the woods again," said Phoebe, who stopped going through the Book, yet again, and went to go sit down next to her older sister. "Word got around fast when that demon attacked those nymphs we helped. All of them are kind of shying away from anyone who isn't, literally, naturally magical."  
  
"By the way, do we still have enough of the potions you made? I know you had to split the drop between the burn, cut, and broken bone potions, but I want to make sure we have some left over just in case he needs more...or, you know, if...when we get attacked again and one of us is left dying," Piper said nonchalantly.  
  
"Yeah, we have more. If you use a rag and wipe it on, you use less of it," answered Paige. "Most of its down in the kitchen though," she said sheepishly. "I kinda wanted to get him the potions as soon as possible so I only got a few vials and of them and left the rest in the pots. I promise, I'll clean them up before I go to bed."  
  
"Nah, it's okay. Just leave them overnight. I'll do it in the morning. Don't worry about it."  
  
Phoebe slightly jumped. "Wow, Piper. That's so...uncharacteristically non- anal retentive/obsessive compulsive/mature/human of you." Phoebe's eyes narrowed. "You didn't get hit in the head with one of those flying books earlier, did you?"  
  
Piper glared. "No, I did not." Her features softened after a while. "Though, thank you for being concerned. I guess I'm just tired," she said, sighing. "Being pregnant with the man-boy from the future, who is now our whitelighter, as well as my son, while dealing with his issues and, now, apparently the issues of the future, as well as his ex lying formerly battered across from me, while he's technically not even born yet, is just a little too much, a little too weird, if that's even possible for us."  
  
Phoebe cooed and then spoke with fake sympathy. "Not in this family."  
  
"Yeah...uh...that's kinda what I wanted to talk about," said Paige quietly, as she crossed the room from where she laid down the boy on the other couch. "What I'm worried about."  
  
"What? That nothing's too weird for this family?" asked Phoebe, her eyes furrowing as her face took a confused look.  
  
Piper couldn't hold back a chuckle as Paige's eyes almost rolled out of her head. "No, dumbass, I was talking about the flying books," she said as she glared at Phoebe. Her face took on a concerned look as she thought about what happened. "What made Chris snap like that?"  
  
Phoebe couldn't decide between laughing or glaring at being called a dumbass—she knew she had her moments—but her expression changed when she saw where her sister was going with this. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I've never seen him like that before..."  
  
"What? You mean you weren't there when he beat Leo into a bloody pulp?" Paige asked with a sarcastic smile.  
  
"No, dumbass," Phoebe answered, elated that she could throw it back. "What I meant was, I never saw him that mad before, but the thing is...I could have sworn I felt emotions coming off of him. You know, like _actual_ emotions."  
  
"Yeah, ha ha, Phoebe. So Chris is human. Surprise! We already knew that. He is my son," Piper said, looking at her sister as if she were crazy.  
  
"Yeah, I know. It's just that...I've never really felt anything from him at all...ever," Phoebe said shifting her head to look at both of her sisters. "Except that time with Bianca, and I don't even want to think about what that means."  
  
Paige remained silent and looked at Phoebe. She was off in la-la land again. When she finally noticed that both Paige and Piper were looking at her, she coughed and shifted in her seat.  
  
"Well?" asked Paige.  
  
"Well, what?" answered Phoebe, getting very nervous now.  
  
Paige rolled her eyes. "What did you get off of him? What was he feeling?"  
  
"Oh," she answered. "I don't know. It was all kind of muddled up. I think I felt...anger, fear, definite paranoia," she tilted her head a little to emphasize her point, but she quickly sobered up. "But...now that I think about it, I'm almost certain that I felt...pain...a lot of it actually. I think...mostly, I think that that little show he put up was really just a shield. It's like he's trying to hide what he really feels, and he's really afraid of anyone finding out. What's worse is, I don't think even he wants to realize just how hurt he really is, either."  
  
"I think you're right," said Piper, surprising both her sisters into looking at her. "I think that that was just an act; that he _was_ just performing so he wouldn't have to deal with his feelings, and I think that because..._especially_ because..._I_ remember feeling like that." Piper's voice was sad, yet her eyes stayed dry, the nights of thinking, helping her to not get upset whenever she thought about it. "When Leo showed up again, when we were in Valhalla, I just remember feeling really, _really_ mad, but, deep down...I think I was just...hiding? It was like I was looking for another way to get past my feelings at that point. I just...didn't want to deal with it, and getting angry at him was just the easier thing to do. And now...for Chris...I mean, even if the guy cheated on him...and—even if it did seem like he loved Bianca a lot—it's obvious he loved this Brett guy first," Piper paused to look at her sisters. "And...if the look on Chris' face earlier, before we found out anything about Brett, when we first found Brett here alone with him, says anything about his feelings at _all_, I think...I _know_ that Chris still loves him."  
  
A silence filled the room after Piper's revelation.  
  
"Well, I hope you're right about this hiding thing because I was seconds away from smacking him over the head," Paige half joked, still remembering her nephew little episode.  
  
Phoebe moaned and sighed. "Oh, Paige."  
  
A yelp of disbelief arose from the youngest sister. "What? I just think that, no matter how mad you are, just because someone cheated you, does not mean that you get permission to beat them to a bloody pulp. Besides, I saw you trying to stop him, too."  
  
"Um, excuse me. This coming from the girl who put her cheating ex in jail," Phoebe said with a small smirk on her lips. "And, secondly, yeah. I tried to _stop_ him, not _maim_ him."  
  
"Well, that first thing was different," insisted Paige. "Nate could have exposed us as witches. I was merely trying to save us from a Salem flashback. Bastard priests, evil witch hunters, stake burnings, and all."  
  
Phoebe and Piper winced.  
  
"What?" Paige asked.  
  
"Nothing. We'll tell you some other time," said Piper hurriedly while Phoebe just smiled.  
  
"What now?" asked Paige.  
  
"Nothing. It's just...since when were you against the Salem Witch Hunt?" asked Phoebe.  
  
"Oh...well...since I was little. I couldn't explain it. I just thought that that was mean. I mean, it's not like I though witches were real, it's just that, I thought that those people should at least have had a fair trial," answered Paige while she slightly shook her head.  
  
"You too, huh?" asked Phoebe in a teasing tone. "Prue, Piper, and I really didn't like the subject either growing up. We all just thought that it was because Grams always hated it, but, then again, we didn't know about her growing up."  
  
"We didn't know a lot of things growing up," Piper said sardonically. "It sure would have helped us a lot more if she kept us in at least some stuff," she said as she looked at Paige.  
  
"Yeah, but I'm kind of glad she didn't," said Phoebe. "Otherwise, Paige may not be the way she is now, and that would just be a shame...I think."  
  
"Ha, ha," said Paige sarcastically, "but, yeah, I know what you mean. I'm glad we turned out like this, too," said Paige after slightly shoving Phoebe.  
  
Another silence washed over the room.  
  
"So, uh, maybe we should talk about Brett and those de—"Paige tried.  
  
"No," Piper cuttin her off. "No talking about demons or evil or bizarre twenty-year-olds from the future tonight," she elaborated, obviously tired. "Not until morning, when everything just tends to make a little more sense."  
  
Yet another silenced drowned out the other sounds of the room, until someone was brave enough to break it.  
  
"So, uh, this 'Brett and Chris' thing...in other words..." Paige paused while her sisters turned to look at her, "...not good?"  
  
Piper sighed. "Seriously 'not good.' You do remember Bianca, don't you? After her, he was so..." she stopped to make compacting—almost strangling—gestures with her hands, her eyebrows furrowed and her lips in a firm scowl, "...when she was here, and at least with her, he had some sort of closure, and was more or less fine after a while. As far as we know, those two," she said as she gestured to indicate the unconscious body on the other couch, "could still be waiting for a conclusion of some sort...or at least Chris might." She stopped to sigh. "This could really break him right now. I mean, he, as an individual, made a lot of progress since we found out he was part of the family. I mean, he didn't always come to me with his problems, but...at least he called me 'Mom.' I...I don't think I could go back to just being 'Piper,'" she said as her eyes started to water. "I just...I don't want to lose him."  
  
"Oh, honey," cooed Phoebe as she stretched over to hug her sister, while Paige merely sat down on the arm of the sofa and patted her shoulder. "Chris loves you. I'm sure of it. He'll probably feel bad, but I doubt that he'll give that up now."  
  
"Yeah, I'm sure he's just going through a hard time right now. I mean, if Chris got engaged to Bianca, then they must have been together for a while. He probably got over most of whatever he had with Brett," added Paige.  
  
"Thanks you guys, and nice try Paige," added Piper, eyes sad, but desperately trying for gratitude, while she began to stand up, "but Phoebe's the empath, and if she thinks that she felt something off him more than when she felt something when he was unconscious while Bianca was here, chances are, he's probably carrying a hell of a lot more issues, and I don't think we should ignore that." Piper gave them a stern look. "Promise me you guys will keep an eye on them?"  
  
"Of course, sweetie," answered Phoebe. "Although, I would like to know where you're going. I mean, we just found out that your son is, at least, bisexual. This could be like, the most normal drama that this house has seen over the last century. You'd think you'd want to talk about it...or, you know, make a mental list of jokes for tomorrow, because this is just too juicy to not make fun of," she added with a forced laugh almost escaping her lips.  
  
Piper glared. "That's my son you're talking about. It's not nice to make fun of him because of his sexual preference..." she paused, "...while he's not here, because where would be the fun in that?" she asked, smiling awkwardly. "But, no. I'll have to pass. Besides, I figure, they must have been happy for a very long time before breaking up, otherwise, why would either of them be hurting so bad, right? If he was happy, then more power to him." she answered innocently. "Or it could be that I don't want to think about any other alternatives right now, especially because I can already feel my brain shutting down, and would rather believe that nice little illusion, rather than deal with reality...at least for now," she continued brightly. "So, now, I'm going to say goodnight to Chris, bottle up the rest of my emotions because I don't think I can handle them right now, and go to sleep." She rubbed her stomach. "This is one energy- sucking baby, so if you'll excuse me," she said, trying to smile warmly, but only succeeded in making it look worse, and began walking out. "Don't stay up too long. You have work tomorrow."  
  
Paige winced when she saw Piper's fake smile and desperately tried to keep up the levity Piper started for all their sakes. She knew that none of them would be sleeping well tonight. "First of all, why did you have to remind us? Second, where do we put him?" she asked as she gestured to the sleeping figure on the sofa. "What if a demon attacks? And, third, you know where Chris is?" she asked, perplexed. "I've been trying to sense him for hours."  
  
Piper, half way down the stairs, yelled back. "Put him in Chris' bedroom, since I don't think he's coming back home tonight, anyway. The alarms Chris put up should keep him safe. As for Chris...well, he's miserable, lonely, and, more importantly, wants to feel better. Where do you think he went?" Paige shook her head in response. "As for reminding you...because it's fun." Paige and Phoebe hear a door open and shut after a muddled "goodnight."  
  
"P3?" asked Paige, dejectedly.  
  
"You know it," answered Phoebe, feeling morose, and showing it.  
  
"Well, I guess goodnight then," Paige said, hugging her sister. "Oh wait. Brett'll need some clothes. Um...should we go shopping tomorrow?"  
  
"Yeah, why not?" answered Phoebe, attempting nonchalance and failing. "If he's going to be staying here, he might as well be an excuse for new shoes."  
  
"Right. I'll go with you," Paige said as she hugged her sister, trying to give as well as receive as much comfort from the physical embrace as possible before orbing with the other boy to Chris' abandoned bedroom. "Goodnight."  
  
"Goodnight!" Phoebe yelled to the scattering as she walked across the room, turned off the light, and closed the door.  
  
With that, three sisters laid down in their beds, struggling for sleep that would not come in the wake of their feelings of misery and helplessness.  
  
Tomorrow was going to be one hell of a day. 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen  
  
Monday 9:15 AM  
  
Chris tried to trudge up the stairs as lightly as he could, although, with a hangover, silent wasn't exactly his best friend. Of course, the aspirin his mom told him about sure was helpful, so... A thought struck him. He didn't know why he wanted to keep quiet. In fact, it startled him that he did so. Paige and Phoebe should have been long awake and at work by now, Mom was probably playing with Wyatt right now, probably waiting for D—Leo to come and baby sit, and, well, he was awake, so it couldn't possibly be for him...so, who in the manor did that leave...?  
  
Oh, yeah.  
  
He cursed inwardly as he walked up the stairs, emotionally drained after last night's beer binge. Insisting that, after everything that happened last night, after messing up the attic so badly with one of his "episodes," and then just leaving, he was just an ass.  
  
A great, stupid, selfish, retarded, idiotic, uncaring, inconsiderate ass.  
  
He finished the stairs and awkwardly reached out for the ornamental gargoyle that acted as the doorknob of his room. The sisters didn't know about...and, in his future, they never would have... It was a hidden room in the manor, an illusion hiding the actual door, and was closed off for so long, that, when they did open it (now, as well as in the future), stale and musty air sprang forth to choke them, and the inside was so dusty that the blue, red, and mauve satin covers on the very big, very expensive four post bed looked like they had been covered in dust for at least a couple decades.  
  
The room obviously used to belong to one of their more powerful ancestors because, well, for one the way the room was decorated, all lavish and pristine, crystal chandeliers, a very extensive library of the oldest looking books, a very heavy-looking ottoman at the foot of the bed, and other sorts of furniture, and, if one took a closer look, all the items in the room seemed to have been place there for a reason. For example, the four candles hanging on the walls were all precisely in equidistant and they faced the four directions of the elements, and hanging from each candle holders were elemental symbols. The place had a magical harmony to it and anyone within the room could have easily used it to magnify their powers or used it to make a very powerful energy barrier without having to use up their own energy either. Who ever designed the room obviously knew what they were doing. And, secondly, the spell that kept the door invisible was, obviously, still active.  
  
Before, in other, more laughable and happier, drunken stupors, he wondered if he was as powerful as her...his ancestor. Technically, he knew he was, but, with his powers bound, and only a few of them managing over the little lid that kept the others shut, he didn't know if he was really worth as much as his other not-bound brothers. Scratch that. He knew. He knew he wasn't as powerful as them. He knew he was weak, but he liked to cling to false hope.  
  
Ha. False hope. Ha ha.  
  
But...that was then and right now...now, Chris didn't want to think about smelly pillows, or dusty books or old ladies who had really expensive taste and had strong powers...in her time, at least. No, right now, he just wanted to...get in bed with the lump that suddenly formed there...?  
  
Chris blinked. It wasn't because he was sleepy that he wanted to go to bed, because, in fact, the sofa bed was as comfy as his mom said it was. But...right now...he didn't feel like...facing the world again. Not just yet. No. He still had some moping time left, and, damn it, he wanted to use them.  
  
But, soon, the defiance and anger, the stubbornness and pride left him, and he thought that it was actually sort of funny that Brett was sleeping in his bed...again. It was funny for a lot of reasons, actually, not just because they were former...fellow time travelers. One of the reasons was because, Brett was actually the one who found this room in the first place. A boring afternoon, chores, and a backfired spell later, Brett stumbled upon the one room in the house that actually called for privacy, seeing as how it didn't let teleporting of any kind into it. Actually, that afternoon also ended up with a few demons, some singed hair, new powers, and the need for new furniture, plus the avoidance of one of the upstairs bathrooms, but that was another story all together.  
  
So he stared. He stared and he stared, but he didn't see. He couldn't. Because, ever since...whenever he looked at Brett, he didn't see him anymore. He only saw good memories and dreams of how thing were supposed to be, because it was just too painful to think about the bad memories and how things actually were. He didn't want to feel. He didn't want to hurt. So, he stood there, mind replaying all the good times they had together, because the alternative was just too messy, too psychologically damaging, too...yuck. So he fought, just like always, a fight that he knew he would lose, desperately trying to stall for time, only delaying the inevitable realization that things were like the way they were now, along with pain of what could have and should have been, and weren't, in any way, the way they were in his head.  
  
He stood there, unmoving, his lips resembling something of either a smile or a grimace. He didn't feel it when a hand reached out and rub his shoulder. He didn't see her when she walked in front of him and bring him into a full hug that he hesitantly reciprocated, his mind still fighting the losing battle. But, he did hear it when she started talking. He couldn't catch most of it, maybe because, she wasn't really saying anything, and he was only picturing her soothing voice. He did know it was real when it finally, truly uttered two words.  
  
"It's okay," she whispered, like a mom calming a crying child. "It's okay. It's all going to be okay."  
  
Children are such asses.  
  
He tried to stop her. He tried to pull away, but his body wouldn't let him. He wanted to believe her so much, wanted to think that, maybe, she was right; that it would be okay, that everything would be fine. But...this wasn't his mother. Her hair wasn't as light as it should have been, nor did it have the grey streaks that always seemed to remind him of Rouge. Her skin wasn't as fair as he knew it was—would be?—from where he came from. Her hands weren't callous and dry from hot-watered dishes. She didn't have a scar to the side of her neck when a Swarm demon attacked when he was nine. Her scent of lilacs and lilies was stronger, more pungent. She didn't seem as tall as she should be. She wasn't as worn down by demons and children. Her face didn't' have the slight smile wrinkles of a fake spirit. She didn't have the slight frown wrinkles of the silent obliviousness of truth. She still had some fight. Her eyes were still bright. She had hope. She wasn't blind. She noticed things. She noticed him. She comforted him. She soothed him. She hugged and rocked him with the ease of someone who seemed to have always had, even though he knew she would never.  
  
This wasn't his mother.  
  
But...it's been so long now. And for some reason, he could start to feel his whole body ache, and something told him that it had nothing to do with hangovers. For so long now, he'd been so cold, so lonely, and now here she was, one of the things he always wanted so badly: the comfort of a mother, hugging him, telling him that it was okay, that everything would be okay, that he was safe. She ran her hands up and down his back whispering things he always wanted his mother to say to him. She breathed silent assurances that soothed insecurities he didn't even know he had. Whispers of acceptance and mumblings of "blessing not permission," reached his subconscious and he became confused because tears began to streak his eyes, even though he knew they couldn't have because he used them all last night. Besides, she was warm, and he hadn't been that for years now. Sure, he thawed sometimes, but...he was never really warm since six years, ten months, two weeks, four days, twelve hours, and twenty-five minutes ago.  
  
So, as he reached up to hug her back, he gave up. Because, unlike him, she was warm, and he went for so long being cold, that he forgot for a while what warm felt like. He let himself melt into the embrace, and welcomed the words of encouragement and reassurance he so desperately craved. And, even though this wasn't his mother, and because of that, he knew that it wouldn't be valued as much, at least his woman loved him, accepted him, and he smiled because, now, he could raise the number on the list of people who genuinely cared about him to a whopping one...it could be four or five, depending on this woman's sisters, her ex-husband, and a certain lump that was in the middle of his bed. Right now, he'd do anything for a little warmth, because he wanted to believe her assurances so badly, that everything would be okay, that she loved him no matter what, because he knew that he didn't...believer her, that is...not really. But he pushed that down and smiled, because, even though the acceptance of his woman was not the acceptance he really wanted, needed, it was something, and, from a world of despondence and hopelessness, one didn't take things like that lightly. You took what you could get, and as she hugged him just a little tighter, he held on to her a little tighter, too, seeking the comfort of someone who wasn't there, but at the same time, succumbing to the pleasant feeling of belonging, even if it was just for a while.  
  
Children were weak.  
  
He almost whimpered when she began to pull away, and he knew he was stuck in some little world because he couldn't see or hear much of what she was saying. And though he only heard murmurs of "work" and "P3," something about "Wyatt" and "Shelia's" and the words "talk later," he did hear her say "I love you" and it made him smile and happy enough to return it and watch her walk away.  
  
With nothing to do, with the exception of breaking down and crying, his eyes wandered the room again, seeing things that weren't there: memories, shadows of a time that was and never would be, along with things he knew he could never really let go.  
  
But, they say you can't hide forever, so it was only a matter of time until his eyes, sad and wet and heavy as they were, only drifted back to rest on his fellow time trav—his former lover, his former best friend, his former brother...his betrayer, and at that moment, that one magnificent and dreadful moment, he acknowledged what his subconscious always knew; that, though he understood to be the things he said earlier, one needed to be involved in certain activities—activities that (Chris was certain) neither of them had done (at least) together in such a long time...(six years, ten months, two weeks, four days, twelve hours, and thirty-two minutes ago)—that somehow, Brett would never be a "former" _anything_, despite how much he wanted it to be that way or how much he didn't, would never stop being all those things to him: his lover, his best friend, his brother, and...his betrayer.  
  
A lot of things dawned on Chris right then.  
  
It dawned on him that he hadn't seen the sight before him in six years, ten months, two weeks, four days, twelve hours, and thirty-three minutes, but, for some reason, it felt like it was the most regular thing of the day. It was familiar and strange at the same time. It was familiar in the way that he could look through the Book, the way someone would pour coffee, the way he saw his mother everyday. But, at the same time, it was strange because Chris hadn't seen Brett look through the Book in a long time or pour coffee or see him everyday. It was like...Brett had always been there before, but at the same time, no matter how many times he saw it in his past, it was like the first time Brett spent the night. It just felt...right for Brett to be there.  
  
It dawned on Chris the real reason why he was mad at Brett. He could never hate Brett, not really, and especially not after knowing that future Wyatt treated him like a...ha...trophy wife instead of a boyfriend, but he could be mad at him. He was mad because he was jealous, which usually would have been fine because he was jealous of everyone. He was jealous of his mom's obliviousness to her son turning evil. He was jealous of his Aunt Phoebe's ability to not care much for her old family when she got a new one with Uncle Jason. He was jealous of his Aunt Paige's ability to dive into her work and let it consume and engulf her, a personal getaway from the magic at home to the magic at magic school. He was jealous of Wyatt because...well, who wouldn't be? He was jealous of Matt because, well, Matt didn't turn with Wyatt and help him raise hell on earth even if it was only for a few years. Hell, he was even jealous of Leo and his amazing ability to drop and not care about anything except the things that related to his job and to Wyatt, which included the half the world, Mom, Wyatt himself, Matt (because his powers were unbound), and, oh yeah, anyone else that he could hear call him, except for his own God damn son!  
  
But, he, realized, he was never jealous of Brett before. He wasn't jealous of Brett when he found out that Brett had more money than Chris ancestors ever had put together. He wasn't jealous when he found out that Brett was an only child. He wasn't jealous when Brett became really, really skilled in the Craft. He wasn't jealous even when Brett always seemed to make more friends than him, even when he didn't mean, nor want, to. Part of him knew that it could possibly be because, for some reason, Brett was his back then, that Brett chose him to be close friends with. But, though he wasn't then, for some reason, he was now, and the only reason he could come up with just made him even madder and more upset. Upset in the way your stomach was when you had to get over a hang over...like he wanted to now.  
  
He was jealous because, even after all this time, Brett still had more control over showing his feelings than Chris did. While Chris got angry and bashed the other boy into walls repeatedly, the other still didn't use his powers to stop him, even though, Chris knew, that, with his mind as angry and upset as it was then, Brett would have easily subdued him, but...he didn't. He kept his calm, mostly. And instead of fighting back, he took it. And that made Chris feel even worse because...maybe...maybe it wasn't because Brett had more control. Maybe it was because Brett just didn't care as much as Chris did.  
  
It dawned on Chris that, maybe, he could hate Brett, in at least some way now. He hated Brett the same way he knew he loved him. He knew he always found something to hate in every body, including his mom, his aunts, Matt, Wyatt, especially his father, and anybody else he ever met. The only problem was, like jealousy, he never hated Brett before, and, like jealousy, it was probably because he knew and thought once upon a time that Brett had always had and always would choose him.  
  
He knew better now.  
  
It dawned on him that children were stupid and crazy and dumb and idiotic and weak and insane and inconsiderate and selfish and screwed up and any other negative adjectives that he could think of because...because people shouldn't be this torn up between pinning a person who traveled through time to find a previous person who also traveled through time in hopes of saving the world and kissing him till his lips were bruised and holding him for all of eternity, and beating the person who traveled through time to find a previous person who traveled through time in hopes of saving the world into a bloodier pulp then he saw yesterday afternoon when, he was still had a shred of sanity left.  
  
It dawned on him, that of all the surprises and shocks that rocked through his brain since this little list started was that...the one that surprised and shocked him the most was the one where he realized that it _wasn't_ as surprising and shocking as he thought it should have been. Some part of him, no matter how crazy that made him sound right now, knew that Brett would always be part of his life, whether he wanted him to or not, and, had anyone been paying attention to his thoughts, they would know what he wanted Brett to be...again. And, as comforting as that thought was, the thought that Brett would always mean something to him whether it meant something positive or negative, was equally frightening.  
  
The last things three things that dawned on Chris' mind before the rustling of satin bed sheets, beautiful brown hair, and alabaster skin moved, sounds of someone waking up, dragging him out of his little world were:  
  
One, that he didn't know how to react to the fact that it wasn't as surprising and shocking as he thought it should have been. He knew all the information, but...he didn't know what he was supposed to do or feel about it.  
  
Two, that he was a child.  
  
And three, that he was sad about the fact that he didn't know how to react to the fact that is wasn't as surprising and shocking as he thought it should have been, because everything, everything he could possibly want, whether it was revenge or affection, was laying right here in front of him, and for some reason he didn't know what to do with it which just made him...well, sad.  
  
And he hated himself for that.

* * *

Yes!!!! I can edit crap again! I already have the next few chapter stored in my head so all I have to do is type them! I hope to get them to you as soon as possible. I'm sorry if you thought that there were any new chapters, but don't worry, they'll come soon.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Standard Disclaimer.

Chapter Fourteen  
  
10:31 AM  
  
_Dear Fiancé-less,  
  
It sounds like you have a lot of stress on you. I'm sorry that you're significant other has been keeping secrets from you, but that doesn't mean she doesn't love you. Of, course, if you're going to leave her at the alter because of that, then maybe you should go try and un-wedge whatever bug crawled up your—_  
  
No, too violent.  
  
_Dear Worried,  
  
I'm sorry to hear about your son, but, if you care enough to write someone who you don't even know has any sort of experience with drugs just for the sake of your child...well, you're obviously a caring parent and therefore you're kid can't have fallen that far from the tree. The "things" you found were probably from a friend of his and I'm sure he knows how to deal with his future demons—_  
  
Okay, that was _completely_ coincidental.  
  
_Dear Nosy,  
  
I know how shocking it is to find out if a loved one of yours dated someone you wouldn't normally approve of. It may sound a bit trite, but...I'm sure your sister knew—and knows—what she's doing. Her ex-boyfriend was probably a great guy underneath and all you have to do is give him a chance. Besides, even if this guy wasn't, your nephew probably—  
_  
God! Is there not _one_ of these damned things that _doesn't_ hit too close to home?!  
  
She needed to relax. Ever since yesterday afternoon, her emotions were going haywire, and it's not like a good night's _non_-sleep helped any. At first, she just thought she was picking up everyone else's emotions: Piper's insecurities, Chris' emotional baggage, Paige's impatience, and Brett's...

Huh. Now that she thinks about it, she never felt anything from--  
  
She nearly jumped when the phone rang.  
  
"Y'ello? Marge?"  
  
"Uh, yeah. It's your sister, Piper, is on line three," a voice answered.  
  
"Okay, thanks. I'll take it in my office," she waited to hear the phone click.

"Phoebe?"  
  
"Yeah, it's me."  
  
"Hey."  
  
"'Hey' yourself," she responded, smiling. "What's up?"  
  
"Uh...I just thought that we should discuss that _thing_ that happened _yesterday _at that _place _at the club over lunch, since we didn't get much time during breakfast," Piper quickly replied. "I already asked Paige to meet us at one."  
  
Phoebe blinked. Huh?  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"You know...that _thing_."  
  
Uh...  
  
"You know...the _thing _that came _back_."  
  
Oh.

Right.  
  
"Okay, yeah sure," she answered. "If that's what you want."  
  
A beat.  
  
"Piper?" she asked. "Is there something wrong? Something you wanted to talk about?"  
  
"Actually...wait. How'd you know? Don't your...ahem...'_things_' not work from this far away?"  
  
"Actually it's more along of the lines of my actually _knowing_ you...well, yeah, _that_, and the fact that you haven't said a thing in the past ten seconds."  
  
She heard something that vaguely sounded like "smartass."  
  
She heard a sigh and a raspy voice.  
  
"Actually...yeah. Um...do you think that you could possibly...uh...work at home today?"  
  
Shocked!!!—well...no, not exactly "shocked," but—  
  
"Uh, yeah, sure...just, uh...let me tell Elise..." she trailed off. "Is there something the matter."  
  
Another sigh.  
  
"Yeah...mayb—I don't know. I just...I don't want to leave him alone for too long," she heard a worried voice that was all too familiar. "He came home this morning and went into his room and...he was crying."  
  
A muffled sob.  
  
"_Crying_."  
  
Another sob.  
  
"I've, uh...I realized that...I've never seen him cry..."  
  
Her vision blurred.  
  
Her voice cracked...just slightly.  
  
"Yeah, sure. No problem," she said, too enthusiastically. "I'll go right home."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Thanks. I'll...I'll try to be there as soon as possible," she heard her say. "I just got a couple of things to plan, set up."  
  
A softer sob.  
  
"I shouldn't be too long, but I think I might have to be here till lunch."  
  
"Oh, and, Phoebe...do you think that you can make it so he doesn't know you're there?" The Tentative voice. "I just...I don't want to leave him alone, but...I don't want him to think that we're imposing or don't trust him or..."  
  
"That's fine, sweetie," she said soothingly. "I'll make sure he doesn't see me."  
  
A _relaxed_ sigh.  
  
"Thanks... I'll see you for lunch."  
  
"Okay," she replies, then... "What about..."  
  
"I don't want to leave him alone, but...we need to talk about this..."  
  
"Well, we could call L—"  
  
"NO...uh, no. No, I don't want him in on this until it's absolutely necessary."  
  
Her mouth opened.  
  
"Besides...I don't think Chris wants him to know about this right now."  
  
Her mouth closed.  
  
"Okay," she said. "I'll see you at one then?"  
  
"Yeah," a voice replied. "And, Phoebe? Thanks."  
  
"It's nothing. Don't mention it," she smiled sadly into the mouthpiece. "That's what family's for, and he is one of my favorite nephews."  
  
A laugh...finally.  
  
"Okay. Bye."  
  
A returned laugh.  
  
"Bye."  
  
The phone clicked down.  
  
Oh, boy...  
  
Elise was not the only one who wasn't going to like this...

* * *

That's the chapter for now. I don't have much time to write right now, so...this will have to do. The next chapter is in full text in my head, so I only have to transfer it. It's about Chris/Brett, so...

Hoped you liked this one.

Thanks.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Standard Disclaimer  
  
This one is for CrimsonHurricane. I really want to.

* * *

Chapter Fifteen  
  
10:15 AM  
  
Chris saw brown hair move, a chiseled body shift and dull eyes open and stare in confusion then realization at him.  
  
"Oh, Chris...hey," it said. "I didn't know you were... I'm sorry. I didn't know they would put me in here," he said. "I'll leave."  
  
"NO!" he snapped. "No...uh...please. Stay," he said more calmly. Chris immediately stepped forward and put his hand on Brett's chest to push him back down. The moment was awkward and both boys flushed slightly and started looking at everything else instead of each other.  
  
After a while Chris got up looking quite shifty, like a startled colt, frightened, but deadly, powerful.  
  
"You...uh...you look good," Chris said uneasily. "I mean...you know...better than yesterday."  
  
Brett smiled sardonically. "Um...thanks. That would be 'cause you're mom and aunts healed me. I think they used potions. Whoever said bruises were sexy obviously didn't have any."  
  
Chris smile was pained. "Why...why didn't you tell me...tell us that...that you were..."  
  
Brett replied instantly. "Because I didn't want to worry you," he said smoothly, or what would have been smoothly if Chris didn't know him better. "Besides, most of these were at least two weeks old anyway."  
  
Sharp eyes fell. "Those were two weeks old? They didn't look like...they should have healed by now..."  
  
Chris saw him shiver and school his expression before replying. "You don't know first aid very well, do you?" Chris shivered when he saw that wry smile, as if he did this often, or that it wasn't surprising to talk about it, his injuries. "I'm healing at the average speed, Chris."  
  
Chris grimaced. "You mean..." He felt something cold go down his spine...again. "How bad was—"  
  
"It was nothing, average," Brett cut him off. "Don't worry though. I've had worse...really."  
  
Chris heart almost tore. "Who...?"  
  
The reply was sharp, cutting, and sardonic. "Who do you _think_?"  
  
Chris had to lean back on the armoire behind him to keep himself up and not show any tears. He heard Brett sigh.  
  
"Look...can we not talk about that?" he said, only half kidding. "I mean talk about your conversation killers..."  
  
Silence covered the room for what seemed like the longest time.  
  
"You, uh...you still have you're pendant," Chris said tentatively, not looking at him.  
  
Brett smiled, free of that sarcasm he was famous for, innocently. He fingered the jewel. "Yeah, I don't take it off...uh...I didn't want to..." he tried.

A sigh.

"When Wyatt...he told me that you were...you were dead and...I...I didn't want...I couldn't just throw it away..."  
  
Chris smiled then frowned. "Why...why'd you keep it?"  
  
He heard Brett laugh slightly. "I don't know. It was stupid, I guess." He could hear the sad, small smile in Brett's voice. "It reminded me of other times, you know...the manor, Matt, Prue and Porter. Everybody...you..."  
  
Chris felt his stomach flip and he shifted on his feet.

"I...uh...I didn't keep mine."  
  
He looked up and saw Brett's face fall slightly.

"Oh...uh...that's fine." He chuckled. "It's not like I expected you to keep it, you know, after...after Wyatt told you that I...you know...died."  
  
Chris eyes darted away. "He didn't."  
  
He could practically smell the fake smile in the other's voice.

"Oh."  
  
The silence settled over the room again.  
  
Eyes shifted, minds raced, bodies shook, hands trembled, but no words were spoken. Things were never this...strained, this...difficult, and both of them wished for something they didn't know if they really wanted: old times.  
  
"Do...do you want some breakfast or something?" Chris asked after some time. "I...uh...I could make some of the things you like—liked."  
  
"Yeah...uh...that...that would be great." He looked over and Brett's parody of a smile melted into a real one and Chris could have sworn he heard him mutter, "I haven't had one of those in a long time."  
  
"Okay...well...I'll be right back," he said, closing the door behind him and throwing himself at the nearest wall just so he could keep himself up. Breathing deeply and keeping watery eyes at bay, he forced himself off the wall and down the stairs, into the kitchen, wondering if he could make it through cooking an omelet, some bacon, and toast without cutting, burning, or scarring himself in any way.

* * *

Picking up the tray, with enough food for two people, he made his way through the dining room and stopped.  
  
"You can come out now, Aunt Phoebe," he said in a small, bored tone.  
  
"Heh, uh...how'd you know I was here?" she asked in a false cheered tone behind him.  
  
Chris turned around to look at her, and she had to fight the urge to just hug him right there. "I sensed you come in a while ago."  
  
Phoebe just nodded, and struggled for something to talk about. "So...uh...that's... that's a lot of food."  
  
Chris shifted slightly, and his face trickled a ghost of a smile. "Yeah, well, Brett can't cook and I wanted some anyway, so...just like old times."  
  
Phoebe didn't think he meant to say that last part.

"So...uh...this," she pointed to the tray, "...this happens—has hap—will hap—_whatever_, often?"  
  
Chris shifted.

Yeah, he didn't mean to say that.

"Sometimes, you know, some holidays, birthday, or usually after I—um, can we, like, _not _talk about this," he cut himself off.  
  
Phoebe just nodded, brows furrowed.  
  
"You don't have to worry," he said heavily. "I don't think that Brett wants to talk about the future anymore than he has to, and I'm sure he knows that you guys will want an explanation...so...he'll probably just wait until you come home," he said. "Tell Mom I said 'hi.'"  
  
Phoebe blinked. "How did you..."  
  
He chuckled slightly. "You were thinking it a bit too loud."

She blinked again. "You're a telepath?"  
  
"Uh...yeah," he admitted. "I just forgot to take my blocking potion this morning. It's my weekly dose, so..."  
  
Her eyebrows scrunched up and she didn't know what she was more of: confused, pissed, or proud. "My God! How many powers are you hiding?!"  
  
She knew what she was.  
  
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry that I didn't tell you, but...look, I'm going to have to tell Mom and Aunt Paige tonight anyway when you tell them at lunch, so—"  
  
"What the...? Damn it! You have premonitions, _too_?!" she griped. "That is _so_ not fair!"  
  
"Aunt Phoebe?" he asked as she started pacing.  
  
"God! Everyone else gets the cool powers around here, and then, _then_, they get mine _also_."  
  
"Aunt—Aun—Aunt Phoebe!" he yelled when she didn't stop muttering.  
  
"Sorry. What?" she asked.  
  
"Nothing," he said simply. "I just gotta get upstairs, and, no, I don't have premonitions," he finished as he started his way up. "You were just thinking too loud!"  
  
She sighed and sat down in the sun room again. God, how many secrets did he keep from them. You think after all this time that he'd open up, and now with Brett...  
  
She heard a crash followed by a moan. What the hell could they...  
  
"Aunt Phoebe!" she heard him yell from his room in a scolding tone.  
  
Damn. She didn't mean to think that...wait, scratch that. She did. She just didn't think that she'd be that loud. Speaking of loud, what was that crash about...  
  
"I can still hear you, you know!" he yelled.  
  
Uh...maybe she should go...somewhere...and stop thinking about what her nephew was doing with—  
  
"That would be a good idea!"  
  
Right. So. She was...she was just going to...go. Now.  
  
Yeah.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen  
  
Monday 11:10 AM  
  
"Oh, God, Chris, I am _so_ sorry," Brett said helping the other boy off the floor. "I didn't—I thought you were—I'm so sor—"  
  
Chris cut him off by picking up his hand and turning his head to something that seemed only he could hear.  
  
"Ew," he said to himself and then shouted at the top of his lungs, "Aunt Phoebe!" she heard him yell from his room in a scolding tone.  
  
Brett stood perplexed. He didn't even hear her come in. "What was that—"  
  
But Chris only silenced him with his hand again.  
  
"I can still hear you, you know!" he yelled.  
  
This time Brett stayed quiet, waiting for Chris to give him the go ahead.  
  
"That would be a great idea!" he yelled, and then waited until both of them could be hear the front door close. Chris turned to look at him and gave and apologetic smile.  
  
"I could hear her so..." Chris trailed off sheepishly.  
  
Brett just shrugged it off and tried to take a look at his eye. "I'm sorry. You kind of scared me. You're not supposed to sneak up on people from behind, especially when we come from."  
  
Chris just nodded his head.  
  
"Don't worry about it I'm fine," he insisted. "Do you still want breakfast?" he asked, looking on the broken dishes and scattered food on the floor.  
  
"Yeah, kinda," Brett said sheepishly. "Do you mind?"  
  
Chris just smiled. "Yeah...I mean, no...I mean...Yeah, I can do it."  
  
Chris waved his hand over the broken plates and littered food and, slowly, they rose up and started spinning in a spiral until coming together to look more or less like the dishes he just brought up.  
  
"Show off," muttered Brett, although it was said with no actual fire.  
  
Chris just chuckled. "I've got you're favorites," he said, strangely domestic. "Cheese omelet, bacon, toast, iced mocha—minus the ice and mocha and really just coffee—orange juice, milk, and—if we're really feeling risqué—ham and mayonnaise for the added cholesterol."  
  
"You daredevil you," joked Brett. "But, seriously, you know I'm allergic to oranges."  
  
"I know," Chris smiled. "But, you know I love it so..."  
  
"Are you going to end every other sentence with the word 'so?'"  
  
"Maybe..."  
  
"Well, are you?"  
  
"Possibly..." said Chris seriously before breaking into a smile, "...so..."  
  
Brett just slugged him over the head with the pillow next to him.  
  
"Ow! Ow! My eye!" yelled Chris, doubling over.  
  
Brett's smile dropped and he dropped the pillow to check on Chris.  
  
"Oh, my God, are you okay?"  
  
Chris then tackled Brett onto the bed, pinned him down, and started tickling him.  
  
"Say it!" yelled Chris.  
  
"Never!"  
  
"Say it!"  
  
"No!"  
  
"_Say it_," Chris said in his mock dangerous tone.  
  
"Okay! Okay! I yield! I yield!" yelled a squirming Brett. Chris raised his arms in the air and started to make cheering noises until Brett hit him over the head with a pillow again.  
  
Sighing and out of breath, Chris looked at the smiling boy underneath him.  
  
"Why d'ya give up so easily?" he asked. "You used to be able to play this game for hours—or, you know, at least for a couple of minutes or something."  
  
Something in Brett's eyes flickered for a moment—something that didn't escape Chris—before he answered. "Well, I'm hungry so..."  
  
Chris smiled to try and keep the levity. "See? I got you started with the 'so' thing now."  
  
Brett just laughed and pushed Chris off him and they began to eat breakfast. The thick tension that used to be in the room died down now to just slightly and both boys ate in peace between their easy banter. It was nice for both of them to return to this used-to-be common dialogue they shared, both just avoiding asking and answering questions about things that led to any amount of the aforementioned tension—it had been a while for anything that wasn't the slightest bit demonic to be happy in the future...well, until...  
  
"Chris," Brett said quietly, suddenly serious. "We still need to talk about—"  
  
"Don't," Chris said, his face falling. "I don't want to think about that right now." Brett's mouth opened in protest, but Chris stopped him before he could continue.  
  
"Besides, I already told the Mom, Aunt Phoebe, and Aunt Paige that you'd wait till later to talk about anything."  
  
"But—"  
  
"Look," said Chris, eyes diverted, voice barely above a whisper. "Can we just wait till later? _Please_?"  
  
Brett stared at him sullenly but relented.  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, sure," he said and Chris looked up again.  
  
"You know, what?" Brett suddenly asked. "I'm still kind of feeling kind of groggy so...would you mind if I..."  
  
"What? Oh...oh, no, no, go ahead..." he said failing to stifle a yawn.  
  
"I'm sorry. I forgot that you wanted to go back to sleep," he said, already starting to get up.  
  
"NO!" Chris yelled, much to his embarrassment. "No, you can stay. I mean...well, we've done it before, right? You know, before the whole...'us'...thing."  
  
"Right," said Brett, nodding nervously. "Right. Just friends...friends sleeping in the same bed. Nothing wrong with that, right?"  
  
"Nope," said Chris just as nervously, climbing in after Brett—mostly cloathed, sans pants—both lying as far away from each other as possible. "Nope. Nothing wrong with that."  
  
"'Night...er...'morning, Chirs," Brett called over his shoulder.  
  
"'Morning, Brett," Chris said over his shouder.

* * *

Four hours later, after the sisters' lunch, Phoebe found them sleeping with Brett's resting his head on Chris' chest and Chris' arms wrapping around Brett's waist in a possessive hold, both sleeping combortably in each other's arms.

* * *

**A/N:** This is for all of you who wanted to know what happened with that last crash. Well...that and I was in a happy mood (rarity, I know...)...so...

Chapter Seventeen is written. I just need to tweak it. It's the long awaited meeting about what they're gonna do and why Brett came back.

Hope you liked. Please tell me what you think.

As always...Thank you.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Monday 6:15 P.M.

"He's using wormholes, or natural time portals, in the space/time continuum to send demons back, to travel through time. The portals are kept open using the earth's own power, but the only places with enough energy to sustain wormholes are magnetic and psychic hot spots. Usually, when you find a hot spot, you find a wormhole."

The day had gone by relatively well. Phoebe waited until after lunch and after Brett and Chris woke up—actually, she waited until Chris woke up so he could wake Brett up—because she felt she just couldn't find it in herself to separate the two boys. Looking back, that might have been a mistake. Piper and Paige ended being stuck in their jobs for the rest of the day, so it was up to Phoebe to do something. She showed them where the healing potions were kept and fixed Chris' eye along with the promise of not telling Piper.

After, she took them shopping because Brett was still slightly smaller than Chris, and it wasn't like he could keep wearing the blood-stained rags he came in. She had a good time—of course, new shoes always equals a good time, but...whatever—but she could always feel a tension in the air. It was evident in the way the two boys kept looking at each other. It was evident in how Brett always seemed uncomfortable when people got slightly closer than they should have been. It was evident in how Chris just seemed to hover around him. It was evident in the way that when Brett tripped and fell into Chris arms, the only thing he seemed to want to do was get out of them as soon as possible.

If she was honest with herself, the whole day made her feel uneasy, as if she knew that something was lying just beneath the calm surface. Even before her empathy—hell, even before she had premonitions—she could always tell when something was off. It was like a shift in the weather or atmosphere to her. The air would seem colder, the hairs on the back of her neck would stand up, her skin would tingle, and that raw feeling that you get in your gut when you know you did something wrong was grumbling.

Right now, hers was screaming.

"What about the other way?" Paige asked.

"The only other way Wyatt travels through time portals is by making them himself. He's literally punching holes into the time stream. He keeps them open using his own powers channeled through an Orthorian orb crystal. Unfortunately for him, it's draining, the orb I mean. The demons usually come back as soon as possible, and the portals close after the demons step back through them, but..." Brett trailed off. "If he's kept the one he has open on his side to this time for _this _long, he's probably expecting something's off, which means I'm running out of time."

"What do you mean you're running out of time?" asked Phoebe.

Brett sighed again and stopped his pacing where he was wearing a trek on the attic floor, arms folding over his body.

"Wyatt's time portals stay open until he willingly stops it or a body steps back through them," Brett explained. "If he hasn't realized that his demons didn't return yesterday by now, chances are they're still open on his side, in his time, which means he could come back at any moment if he doesn't overlook it."

"Do you think he will?" asked Piper worriedly.

"Wyatt's overconfident, not idiotic," Brett smiled sardonically. "It might take a while, maybe even years, but he'll eventually figure it out."

"How long have you been running?" Paige asked.

"Wyatt's been chasing me for three months now," Brett said in a weary tone. "At first I had the advantage because I knew what I was doing but, eventually, he found a way to keep his own time portals open for an extended period of time. The only thing keeping him from finding me right now is the fact that he can't control what time the time portals take him to. It's random for him. You see, he doesn't have the luxury of exactitude, nor have the finesse of time travel. Basically, he just opens a lot of them and sends his demons out to find me." Brett laughed pitifully.

"I had a run in with him a while back, two weeks ago, and I managed to trick him into going back to his own time and smashed his crystal. I expected that to slow him down, at least for a little while, but he had another one up in a couple of days, which means..."

"...which means he's desperate," finished Paige, a look of understanding in her eyes as hers made contact with Brett's. Phoebe, Piper, and Chris looked at her in surprise and Brett just faintly smiled.

"What makes you say that?" asked Piper warily.

"The Orthorians were destroyed during the Sorcerer Wars thousands of years ago, along with any and all of their remaining magical talismans," she explained barely above a whisper. "If Wyatt is using an Orthorian orb crystal, he's pulling out all the stops. If I remember correctly, they're dangerous. Really dangerous. Orthorian orb crystals act like some sort of energy-sucking device, kind of like a battery, and the person using it is like...the recharger. Not to mention that the side effects are still unknown. The last person reported to use one was said to have been driven insane and fed to demons. If Wyatt's willing to..." She turned to Brett and looked at him with pity and regret as she trailed off. "He must really want you back."

An uncomfortable silence settled over the attic and morbidity was not lost on anybody in the room.

"How do you know all this?" Phoebe asked Brett in a quiet voice. "I mean, if he's started all this to hunt you down, _after_ you left...how could you possibly know?" Brett gaze hardened and he sneered at her.

"I'm not always as nice as I was yesterday."

The room was quiet as his harsh words settled in.

"But, wait," said Chris quietly after the pause. "We know how Wyatt's demons got here, but how did _you_ get here? How'd you time travel? I tore the time spell out of the Book before I came back."

Brett faintly smiled this time. He took a small red vial from the pocket of the jeans, and tossed it to Chris.

"It took a couple of years and over a hundred attempts, but...hell, I figured _someone_ would be dumb enough to try it," he said smirking slightly, face still tight with anxiety. "It works differently than the spell you wrote. It's more...exact. It can send you to whenever and wherever you want, right down to the coordinate pair and second. It's how I've been jumping from one time to another without risking exposure to Wyatt's goons."

Chris smiled slightly.

"You seem to know a lot about this stuff," prompted Piper.

Brett's gaze hardened and his eyes grew darker as they fell to the floor. Chris suddenly felt a twinge of sympathy and guilt and decided to step in.

"Growing up...Brett didn't exactly have the best powers to vanquish demons with, so...he studied the Craft a lot, in between his karate training with Aunt Phoebe. He's the only one I know of who knows our Book of Shadows, as well as his own, better than I do. He's the best potion maker in the house..." Chris trailed off, smiling sadly, as if hiding something.

"So you specialize in potions?" Piper asked, slightly amused, not noticing their stances, or at least not acknowledging them.

"Go with what you're good at, right?" asked Brett, eyes not betraying a thing as Chris' smile vanished and _his_ eyes fell to the floor.

Phoebe smiled faintly, almost nostalgic. "I trained you? You lived with us?"

Brett's eyes only softened slightly as he turned to look at her. "Not for long."

Another silence enveloped the attic as the unsettling news seemed to sink in.

Ignoring the awkward moment, Paige tried to take control of the meeting. "So, I get that you've been running for a long time, but...what are you doing here? Why did you risk you're life to come here, especially now? Why not three months ago?"

Brett's eyes broke away from Chris' sad ones when he answered her question.

"I've spent the past few weeks looking through prophecies, records, archaic patterns and designs...basically, anything I could get my hands on. The few weeks before that, I was hiding in the future. I went around collecting the status of individual bases of the Resistance..." Brett trailed off and turned back to Chris as if asking for permission.

Chris nodded and asked sullenly, seriously, "How bad is it?"

Brett gave him a solemn look. "A lot, actually. None of it's pretty. Wyatt's attacking all the Resistance's bases, now, including the lookout points. His armies are everywhere.

"He's trying to take down everything. The Elders...they've fallen, the vampires are on the run, almost all the fairies have been captured...even the goblins and Thesulac demons are scared, and they live in other planes."

Chris started to pale. "What about the sub-bases?"

"You mean the ones protected by the Sources?" Brett asked almost mocking, but kept his most grave tone. "They're all under attack. I got word that they won't be able to keep their shields up for long, a couple of months, maybe. A few are already beginning to be breached."

"The Sources?" asked Phoebe warily.

Brett sighed, but didn't look at her. "Yes, the Sources. The Elders and the Lords—"

"The what?" asked Paige.

Brett sighed again, but his voice was so soft from the exhaustion of it all. "The Sources—and the Triad, before Belthazor vanquished them—were your counterparts in everyway. They have to answer to their own version of the Elders, too."

"The Lords?" guessed Phoebe.

Brett nodded. "Well, when Wyatt started went after demons and witches first. Both the Elders and the Lords eventually figured that they would be sought out after soon, so they formed the Resistance. Both sides agreed that the best thing to do was to get the strongest players on both sides, so...they agreed to revive the all the Sources that ever lived, the Fifteen that ruled the Underworld, and have them stand as the respective leader and protector of certain sub-bases."

"What about the one the Slayers and Neos protect?" Chris asked, not caring that he interrupted, his eyes cast to the floor. "The one in New York. What about Raine?"

Brett's face was crestfallen, his voice barely above a whisper.

"New York was the first to fall. They just got through a tough battle a couple of weeks before where they lost a lot of their best ones. Raine had a lot of new people come in though, but...there just wasn't enough time to teach them. A lot of them didn't even know the basics of magic. They couldn't..." Brett trailed off.

"The Slayers...they didn't even stand a chance, so most of the battle consisted of the Neos against Wyatt's army. He didn't attack with the simple demons this time...he came in with warlocks, evil witches, and upper level demons. Raine tried to get everyone out, but..."

"What happened?" Chris asked carefully, eyes darkening further, as he struggled to stay up.

"Some of them...got out," said Brett warily. "Alex was eventually able to get them to a new location, but...Raine...she...she didn't make it. She ended up fighting with Wyatt, and, at first...I heard that she stood a chance, a good one even, but...in the end...it turns out he was just playing with her. He tore her apart." Brett eyes locked with Chris'. "New York wasn't a strategic win; it was a massacre."

Chris looked like he was sick

"Slayers? Neos?" Paige asked tentatively. "What do those mean?"

Brett stared hard for a moment. "Do you remember that old television show, I think it was 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer?'"

If this was a normal situation, Phoebe would have laughed, but...

"Yeah."

"Well, the '90s producers must have been on to something. They got really close to exposing Slayers to the world, but, since the Cleaners don't bother with the lower level exposure risks—hell, Slayers don't even get whitelighters—I think the Elders made it into a T.V. show to throw everyone off. Of course, there are slight differences, but...their powers are mostly the same: super strength, healing, senses—even a few extra ones—and predisposition to fighting...although, there can be more than one at a time, and they don't have to be predominantly female. Basically, they're hunters of the more non-inclined to magic demons."

"And Neos? asked Paige.

"'Neos' are short for 'neophyte witches.' They were innocents who learned and became part of magic. They aren't innately magical, but few can become quite powerful or at least strong enough to help...to make a difference."

"Like Raine?" prompted Phoebe timidly.

Brett just chuckled sadly.

"No. No way. Raine...Raine was in a league of her own. I don't know how, but...she could do almost every spell written—well, most of that was basically because Neos don't choose a side, they don't have to because they weren't born into it like we were—but...yeah...yeah, she was special," said Brett. "She was one of the more powerful players on the Resistance's side...and without her..." he trailed off and looked expectantly at Chris who reluctantly caught his eye.

"What else?" asked Chris faintly.

Brett swallowed the lump in his throat before answering.

"...Hong Kong, Tokyo, Manila, London, Montreal, Houston, Barcelona, the Himalayas, the Mun Lunn Mountains, Sydney, Rome, most of Egypt, Cairo, the Amazon, the Andes, Antarctica...all of them are under attack as we speak," Brett said weakly.

"He's using strategies and playing on the Resistance's weaknesses: firestartes vs. nymphs and forest spirits, furies and harpies vs. the Sources, Sleepers vs. the gypsies, Witch Hunters vs. lower level witches and Neos..." Brett trailed off, suddenly unable to finish with the lump in his throat.

"They're barely hanging on. There isn't anyone alive who can't fight anymore. Those who aren't being hunted are dying by lack of food or diseases or God knows what else," Brett's eyes flashed for a second and Chris couldn't help but look away. "The shields Matt taught them to make are wearing down, and it's only a matter of time before..."

A small silence settled over the room again and for a second time since Brett had been there, everyone thought the attic was more depressing than they originally thought.

"They need help," Brett finished as he slowly caught Chris' eyes again.

Chris stared at him in confusion.

"That's why I came," Brett added seriously.

Chris eyes twinkled and both of them ignored the gasps coming from the couches.

"I came to take you back."

* * *

I'm very sorry this took so long. You have _no_ idea how hard this chaper was to write! It was so annoying because you want to put in so much but you can't because it's too frivolous and then there are those pesky possiblitites and then you just can't seem to pick _one_ way to do it. Plus all the books I had to read and crap...it was just...Ugh! God, it was frustrating.

But, that's fine. It should be, more or less, smooth sailing now. Sadly, though, classes start tomorrow, so...

We'll see how the rest plays out. I've got a lot of good ideas for some flashbacks, so, you know...excited!

Thanks. Bye.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Standard Disclaimer

Chapter Eighteen

A man walked into a large, very lavish room. Absurdly old potions, all blanketed in dust, covered an entire table next to a clear crystal ball used for scrying. Books of all ages laced the entire room; shelves full of the most powerful and informative tomes that were never really used. He strode over to the middle of a room where a large, leather bound book lay on a podium and paused.

"I thought I told you that no one was allowed in here."

"Jaster and Kax have yet to return," answered a silky, seductive voice, faint traces of an English accent, all confidence. "One of your portals remains open."

Stony silence met her as the man refused to turn around, eyes supposedly perusing the book in front of him.

"You _know_ what will happen if he contacts your brother," she prompted smoothly.

This time blonde man turned around to face her, but to her surprise, he was smiling, eyes dark.

"Chris amuses me. That alone is the _only_ reason he's still alive," he said in a flippant tone as he crossed over to her. "And as dangerous as Brett is, how deadly, well..." he said as he hovered behind her, kissing the back of her neck and fiery hair, caressing her skin. "...that's the reason I fell in love with him in the first place."

He pushed off from her with a small laugh as he crossed back to the door, leaving her breath-heavy and unsatisfied.

"He'll do anything to kill you," she said seductively, but her voice shook, not facing him.

She heard his trek pause for a moment before continuing to the door.

She smiled.

"You're really worried about him, aren't you?" she said more than asked in an amused tone. "You're scared that he'll find a way."

Faster than she could have ever thought anything could move, she was in the air, choking, as he crushed her throat.

"Don't _ever_ speculate that you could understand my feelings," he said in a vicious tone, eyes flue eyes as dark and fiery as ever they were. "I _have_ none."

He dropped her to the floor where she fell unceremoniously on her end, hands curled protectively around her throat, but a smirk playing on her lips.

"Maybe, but I think that this is a case which you protesteth too much."

The only answer the blonde man gave was a curt, dismissive grunt as he strode to the door.

"Send two of the building's guards after him," he said nonchalantly. "Bring him back."

She smiled again.

"He's figured out the prophecy," she said in her amused tone again, knowing it would make him pause. "He's knows what to do, what's going to happen," she paused, smiling. "He'll do _anything_ to kill you, and now he knows how."

That made the blonde man pause abruptly in front of the door. After a while...

"Send Alden and four of his men," he said in a nearly calm voice, hints of anger and frustration making their way through. "Make sure they're all ex-guards of Brett's, from my personal elite."

"Alden, my lord?" she asked, for the first time bemused in this conversation.

He turned around and flashed her a look so chilling, it made even her deathly pale.

"Why not?" he asked sweetly. "I want to see how he acts dragging his most favored charge back to me."

She shuddered at his deadly tone and followed him with her eyes as he left the room.

"Oh, Brett, you bastard," she said softly. "This had better work."

* * *

Hope I didn't give anyone a coronary waiting for this. I love you guys. I want to give a few shout outs, though. By the by, that lady up there (even I don't know what her name is...I'll figure it out) was based on Dusilla's personality, but, you know, prettier and with red, fiery hair. 

Ravenuk01, thank you, you're always cool. At first I was offended by the "_This just got a hell of a lot more interesting"_ remark, but then I read my first chapters and realzied, yeah, it did suck for the people who didn't have the story surgically engraved into their brains. I love you're honesty though, so don't lose that. And, yeah, I have block scheudules at my school (like an hour, thirty minutes in each class) so I know all about numb asses...

Faith, Love, and Penny Candy, you always have something nice to say, (not to sound _too _cliche, but you really _do_ make my day) so..thank you for that (Love your name by the way. Penny Candy...hehe, I'm retarded, I know, but...what the hell).

Buffspike...always enthusiastic...bordering on distrubing and psychotic (j/k), but you've always been there to support me. Thank you. Without you, I...well, I would have written this story anyway, but I would have been less enthusiastic to do so...so, everyone who, for some demented reason is a fan and still actually reading this crap, best thank these three for saying such nice things so often. They're my digi-roadies...although I don't think I deserve them. Hmph.

Anyway.

So yeah, this is the part of the story where everything _finally _(I know how you feel, I've been waiting for me to get here, too...stupid exposition crap) begins to unfold. This is where the real story begins. Chris' past will show, crap happens, people die, you cry, people cry, even more crap happens, and, well, hopefully you have a good time.

Read it, write in, do whatever. I just hope you like it.

Thanks again.

Devil's Archangel


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

Monday 6:48 PM

"Oh, you can't be serious," muttered Piper in a tone, a snake perched and ready to strike as she strode over to where the two boys stood in front of each other now, lips thin, fists clenched, and eyes fuming. "He can't go back there, not yet!"

Only...the two boys just ignored her, the look of shock, anguish, and disbelief on Chris' face as Brett just watched, calculating, judging.

"You got to be kidding me!" yelled Piper at her son, but as she raised a hand to wave in front of his gaze, she caught a sweep of movement to her side and a flash of white.

"Wha..." she let out, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as Chris didn't even blink in response to her. Suddenly she was picked up off the ground and thrown back into her sisters on the couch, and when she looked up she could see Brett's dark eyes boring into hers, challenging her, before he turned back to Chris.

"Wha...where did my mom go?" asked Chris, looking up. He didn't even notice they left the room.

"They stepped out a while ago," explained Brett nicely. "They said goodbye, remember?"

Chris' eyebrows furrowed again "I can't...I can't go back with you. I have to stay here."

Brett's eyes flashed from shock to disbelief to anger and then to amusement.

"Okay, that's funny, Chris, but we really do have to go," he chuckled as he grasped Chris' arm only to be surprised when Chris backed out of it.

Chris lips thinned, but his eyes shone a little, watering a bit. "I'm not...I'm not kidding. I can't go."

The humor in Brett's eyes evaporated and was quickly replaced with disbelief and anger. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered. "After everything I just told you—"

"I'm sorry...I just...can't...I have to take care of—Wyatt."

Brett shook with rage.

"Oh, my Go—are you listening to yourself?!" Brett yelled, way past angry and working onto furious. "You want to stay here and protect that bastard even after everything he's done to you? To me? To you're entire family? Hell, even the world?!"

Chris eyes flashed a little of anger, too, with obvious disbelief and exasperation.

"If I save Wyatt here, I can save the world over—"

"That's just it, Chris, you can't!" Brett yelled. "God! Don't you think if you had any chance at saving him you would have done it by NOW? I mean, you've been here for almost two years, and _still_ nothing's changed! The world is just as crappy and stupid as it always was before!"

"And how would you—"

"Matt's premonitions!" Brett yelled back viscously. "I can see everything you're ass of a brother had, is, and will do whenever I do and don't want! Do you want me to show you what he's doing to family of Neos he just found right now?! Huh?! Or how about the unicorn herd he just bled dry three hours ago?!"

Brett's hands clenched into fists and he had to step back before he gave in to the desire to punch Chris' face in.

"People are dying, the psychics and empaths are slowly being driven insane, and, there isn't anyone left who could even be remotely called innocent anymore, hell, even children have learned how to kill demons, witches, and whitelighters by now! The _entire_ world has gone to hell and the _only_ thing you can think about doing—the only thing you've done—is sit on your ass, "trying" to save the asshole who started this whole thing in the first place and spending precious time with your mommy!"

Chris paled.

"Get over it, Chris!" Brett yelled. "I _know_ you loved her! I _know_ you cared about her. I _know_ you miss her, but she's _dead_! She's gone, and she's dead. And as much as seeing her alive again is a big deal for you, it's not going to bring her _back_! Hell, I'll even bet you don't spend any time with her, do you? You avoid her."

Chris' fists clenched and his eyebrows furrowed so deeply that it didn't seem like his anymore.

"I can change that! If I just save—"

"But you CAN'T!!!" yelled Brett. "GET THAT THROUGH YOUR _THICK_ SKULL! If you could, you would have done it by now! Wyatt is a danger _now_ and always will be! And no matter how much you try, he'll still end up killing her anyway!"

A stony silence spread through the attic, and Chris thought he could faintly hear his someone calling him.

"I just...he's my _brother_."

Brett exploded.

"And _she_ was your mother! _Matt_ was your brother! Porter, Prue, and Megan were your cousins! _I_ was your best friend! _He's_ a killer!"

"And, you're a traitor!" yelled Chris back, and for a moment both of them stood there in shock.

Brett recovered first and his back straightened, stiffened, voice calm.

"Maybe. But you're grasping at straws, and that's beside the point."

Chris' face slackened and his frame fell.

"Can't you just...There's got to be some other...Roland—"

"Roland's dead," finished Brett, unmercifully.

"Wha..." Chris started in surprise. "I thought—"

Brett chuckled.

"I said New York was the first _sub-base_ to fall," he said sardonically. "Why would Wyatt take care of problems all across the world without taking care of the biggest one in his own back yard?"

"What..."

"He breached the outer defenses easily, slid through them like a knife through butter. He's stronger, now. A lot stronger. He's killed so many demons and witches and Avatars of Power and God knows what else that he doesn't even need his own powers to be the next Source anymore. He's like Cole. He completely obliterated it. Head Quarters—is in ashes. The only thing left—is dust. No one who was there when he attacked is still alive. And Roland, like the dumbass he was, the one who thought you could actually make a difference back here, was just too damn stupid to listen when he still had a chance. Bianca tried—"

"Bianca? She talked to you?" Chris said a little too hopefully.

Brett's eyes flickered for a second, but he answered him in a petulant tone.

"She's the one who got me all the supplies I needed when I was making my potions. She needed help from someone closer to Wyatt in order to trick him, and when you're desperate..." Brett trailed off. "Besides, she needed my potion making skills. She thought that you might need help after a while. I haven't seen for months so..."

Chris face contorted and the disappointment in his eyes didn't escape Brett. "Wyatt killed her months ago...I was there but..."

Brett gaze softened...a little.

"I'm sorry, but that's still beside the point. We need you back there. I know that Roland was like a father to you, but, without him, the sub-bases will fall, too. They need someone who can kill Wyatt. Someone whose example they can follow. Someone they can trust."

Chris eyes, glazed, yet alert met his.

"Why don't you do it?"

"Because I'm not strong enough to take him. Wyatt has Dark powers and even with Matt's Light powers, as great defensively as they are, Wyatt is still the first born. I can't take him. Not alone."

Chris sighed dramatically.

"Give it up with the prophecy. It was probably a hoax anyway."

"Maybe. Either way, Wyatt is still the strongest of you three. Us three. I need your help to beat him. I _can't_ do it on my own, I'm _not_ strong enough," Brett ground out, teeth grinding.

"And what do you think I can do?" asked Chris anxiously. "Matt and Wyatt were the powerful ones."

Brett eyes bored into his and Chris realized for the first time that this Brett was so different from the one he met so long ago.

"That's what this is for," said Brett, pulling out a light blue potion out of his jeans.

"What is it?" asked Chris curiously.

"The thing you've always wanted," replied Brett vaguely. "It took over twice as long to make as the time potion."

"Is it..."

"It's you unbinding potion," Brett answered as Chris looked at the potion with such reverence. "The prophecy mentions a third power, besides Light and Dark, but even if it was a hoax, you're _still_ the middle born. You should be more powerful than Matt was, or at least as strong."

Chris eyes looked heavy and world weary as he put the potion in his pocket.

"I can't...I just...I'm sorry."

Brett snorted and his slightly smaller frame seemed to tower over Chris now, quiet, deadly, and powerful, all righteous fury and dark revenge that it seemed to pour out of him in wisps of dark smoke.

"Fine," he said, voice completely devoid of emotion. "I'll just have to find another way."

Chris could only stand there in sadness and in shock as Brett started walking away.

"Don't follow me. Don't try to stop me. Anyone who gets in my way is going to straight to hell," he said, voice chilling the air as he walked away. "Wyatt is a dead man walking."

Chris eyes left the spot on the floor he'd been examining for so long now and stared at Brett's back.

"What happened to you?" he asked, breath barely above a whisper.

Brett didn't even pause on his way out the door, just slightly snorted.

"Wyatt. Life. You. Take your pick."

Chris had to bite his lip to keep his voice from cracking.

"I just...I want my brother back."

That made Brett pause and chuckle softly.

"You lost him a long time ago."

Chris tone was almost pleading.

"I wasn't talking about Wyatt."

Brett just continued walking, stong, confident, and unforgiving, disappearing completely after saying one last thing.

"Neither was I."

* * *

Thanks to Rin-Loy for sharing your thoughts. I hope this chapter doesn't get you down though. Just so you guys know, there's a little cuteness going to come your way but that might come a few chapters later.

Thanks though for reading and being patient with me. I hope you like this.

Devil's Archangel


	20. Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

11:48 P.M.

"How's it going?" Piper asked she waddled her way into the kitchen.

"Not so good," Paige answered, face scrunching up as she lowered a very tired arm from swinging an amethyst crystal. "I can't get a fix on him anywhere. It's like he just vanished."

Piper's eyes rolled in exhaustion and she landed heavily on one of the kitchen chairs. "Well, keep trying. He has to be somewhere."

"Did you have any luck with the Book?" Paige asked, already returning to the monotonous gyrating of the scrying crystal.

"No," answered a very disgruntled Piper. "I can't find anything that could help us find him, and I already tried every summoning spell I could think of. Chris says that it's because Matt's powers are stronger than mine," groaned Piper. "We're going to need the Power of Three."

Paige's eyebrows furrowed as she concentrated on the map again. "Well, how's Phoebe doing?"

Piper's nose scrunched up. "Not so good. She can't seem to get warm enough. She put on all the extra blankets I had in the linen closet and tucked her self under so many comforters I think I'd get lost in it, saying she's still cold," Piper said with a sigh.

"Piper?" asked Paige, voice suddenly distant, as if thinking. "What do we do if we do find him? I mean, do we just send him back? Can we do that?"

Piper drew in a large breath and exhaled audibly. "To be honest, Paige? I don't know. I have _no_ idea what do right now. Personally, the first thing I want to do is send that ass straight back to where he came from after that stunt he pulled, but...but then I think about Matt and Chris and what they must have gone through and then there are _yours_ and _Phoebe's_ kids and ...I just...I have no idea..." Piper said, trailing off.

Paige just waited patiently.

"...And then...then I think about asking Chris. Chris, my son, who I just realized was my son after nearly a year of thinking he was some jackass with a mysterious agenda, my son, who I just saw play with his big—little—whatever—brother, who, by the way, can't be a murder, much less capable of matricide, because he's just _so_ innocent, two days ago, Chris, my son, who I can't even talk to right now because when I think about him, just..._think_, I think...'why?' or 'what happened?' or a thousand different—" she said, her breath hitching, causing her to pause, but finding she didn't really feel like talking anymore.

Paige quickly crossed the room and curled her arms around her sister who clung back with all the strength of a seven-month old pregnant woman.

Paige didn't seem to mind.

"Shh. It's alright. You're okay," Paige whispered. "Everything's going to be okay. We'll get through this," Paige assured her, even though her own voice was starting to crack, which wouldn't exactly the most convincing thing she could do. "We always do."

"But, what if we don't?" asked Piper. "We've been lucky too many times, Paige. I mean, we already_ know_ our luck's going to run out and all the good karma in the world won't be able to save us, but what happens if something changes it? I mean, what if _now_, by simply _knowing_, makes it so we die sooner? We could have just screwed things up even more."

"I...I don't know, sweetie," admitted Paige, hesitantly. "I don't know what to say to that. I guess we just have to believe that...everything happens for a reason."

She felt Piper chuckle softly against her stomach. When Piper pulled back, her face was twisted in some parody of a smile. "That's it? That's all you've got?" she said, good-naturedly. "I expected more from a half-whitelighter."

Paige decided to play along with the levity Piper was trying to hide the pain behind. "Yeah, well, I'm tired and cranky and I'm pretty sure what we had for lunch wasn't sushi. Sue me."

Both of them laughed lightly for a while, trying to take in the humor of the moment before the distraction wore off. Eventually, they quieted down and both of them just stayed there staring at everything and nothing and Paige could swear she heard the wheels in Piper's head beginning to slow down.

"I wish Leo was here," Piper whispered sadly.

"We could—"

"No, we can't," insisted Piper, suddenly. "Chris doesn't want to let Leo in on this, not yet, and I think, in this case, he's right. We don't need him yet. Everything Leo knows about magic should already be in the Book or in our heads after all the years he's lived here. It has to be. It's like...osmosis or something."

Paige just laughed lightly and gave Piper a small smile. They stayed like that for a few seconds, both desperately stalling for time neither really had because dealing with their current positions was just too much to handle.

Finally, "I think I need to take a break," declared Paige. "I'm going to go see if Phoebe needs anything or if she's feeling better than I'm gonna try again," she said as she crossed the kitchen floor, softly patting Piper on her way out, turning only to give Piper one, supposedly pointed stare and quickly saying, "You should talk to him," before making her way for the stairs, leaving Piper alone in a kitchen that didn't suddenly feel so homey anymore.

* * *

He could hear her coming to him long before she hesitantly knocked on the door of his room.

More importantly, he could _feel_ her coming to him before she knocked on the door of his room.

"Chris, sweetie?" she asked.

"Don't," he answered quietly, his voice shaking a bit, back turned to her. "Just...don't. Please."

"What..." she started, confused, as she slowly crossed the floor.

"Don't ask," he stated simply, but vaguely. "Not that question. Because...I don't know. I just...don't know. I mean, I just played with him the other day and I just can't seem to _understand _how he could just...how I couldn't...why he..." he trailed off.

"Chris?" Piper nervously prompted as she lifted her hand to softly touch his back before deciding to just put it down.

"After five years of knowing, half a decade, and I _still_ don't know how I couldn't...and how he could...and I just saw him the other day and I remember thinking 'Wow, he must be one of the best kids I've ever seen,' and my mind just _can't_ grasp around the idea that he..." he trailed off to look at her and Piper swore she felt her heart break at that very moment.

"Oh, honey," she whispered as he felt her draw him into her.

And they stayed like that for a while, minutes melting into a bonding both needed as much as they wanted it; both looking for comfort that nothing but a warm, embracing body could give.

The hug was awkward and painful. She had to stand on her tip-toes to reach behind his neck, a difficult task for a woman with something close to a basketball for a stomach—which created its own obstacle by the way, and he had to bend down just so he could wrap around her middle, causing a dull ache at in his spine and neck, and before that, she had jabbed him in the gut with an elbow and he had stepped on her toes.

They both thought it was perfect.

After a while, Piper small chuckling could be heard again, coming from the folds of Chris' shirt. He pulled away sharply, as if burned, but when he saw her face, knew the laughter wasn't pointed directly at him.

"What?" he asked cautiously, although a hint of a laugh was already forming in the back of his throat.

She chuckled again and smiled as her eyes met his.

"It's just...I just came to ask what you wanted for dinner."

The statement worked it's way through Chris' solemn state of mind slowly, but once it did, he couldn't help but join her.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry," he said. "I feel like an idiot."

"No, don't. It's alright. I think...I think I needed to hear that," she said, almost whispering, and by the emotions—the faint wisps of barely lightened tension the empathy blocking potion let slip through the cracks—he felt coming off her, he knew she was telling the truth.

They were quiet for a second longer, but eventually Piper had to ask.

"Chris? I know that you may not want to talk about this, but...what are we going to do about Brett? What do you think he'll do if we let him stay here? I mean, you know him the most and you come from the future, so..." she trailed off.

His heart tightened and his muscles screamed but, for some reason, he didn't flinch, something the other could see—and was grateful for, and he didn't know if he could answer this question without mind shutting down all over again.

"I...don't know," Chris answered truthfully. "He was hellbent on killing future Wyatt, Mom. I've never...seen him like that before. He's changed _so_..." he trailed off and she just waited for him to continue. "If I still know him, the 'him' he used to be, he'll probably be looking for a way to beat Wyatt."

Piper's eyebrows furrowed. "I thought you said it was nearly impossible."

Chris huffed, frustrated, as he ran his fingers through his hair, pulling loosely. "That's just it, he's _supposed_ to be."

"Well, can you think of anything that could beat Wyatt?" she asked cautiously.

Chris sighed again, frustrated. "If anyone could, it'd be Brett. He knows all our secrets, all our strengths, all our weaknesses...it'd have to be him, but he said he wasn't strong enough so..." he trailed off and Piper _knew_ she heard the wheels in his head begin to make snapping and cracking sounds. "If he wants to take down Wyatt, he'd have to get a _major_ power increa—oh shit."

* * *

A figure stalked across the a dark hall, opening into a large dusty room with dark shelves filled with books and potions that littered three large tables positioned in a qausi-semi-circle, surveying a large black cauldron. Ignoring all these, the figure reached up and plucked a book from the shelves, opened it, and threw it when he didn't find what he wanted. He picked up another book, only to throw it away when he didn't find what he wanted. He tried again and again at different spots along the shelf even as a smooth sultry voice started behind him.

"They're running out of time," it said. "They can't wait any longer. They'll have to strike or move soon because your damn barriers won't hold anymore."

He didn't even slightly acknowledge her when she started talking, seeming as if he knew she was there since he walked in, which made her angry. "Didn't you hear me? You're people are going to die, so what ever plan you've made has to be executed. Now."

"Don't bother me. Not now. Besides, they're expendable," he returned slowly. "All that matters now is Wyatt."

"He wants you back, you know," the cool voice said, a tad bit colder. "He's sent Alden back with four of your guards."

He caught the innuendo, but didn't rise to bait. Instead...

"Why, Lexa, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous." He heard her snarl behind him and caught a flare out of the corner of his eye.

Seconds before the fireball was to hit him, he dodged out of the way and turned invisible. Her head flailed wildly, trying to catch some glimpse to indicate where he was. It wasn't until she felt cold steel against her throat did she give up, nostrils flaring, eyes dark, and lips so thin, they looked like a single drawn line.

"Go back," he said to her, voice unnaturally calm. "Tell the last remaining Avatars of Power to ready their forces. Tell them that one way or another a Prophetic Power is going to come back."

He stalked off before she could question him closely. "What do you mean? I thought the youngest was killed."

"He was," was his curt reply.

"Well, then? And where exactly are you going?" she said, feeling naked, defeated and dumb, left in the middle of the room.

He answered her vaguely just before stepping out of the room, prize in hand.

"I'm going to see a man about some powers."

* * *

"Chris?" Piper asked cautiously.

"God, that's it!" Chris yelled. "That's it! I can't believe I missed it!"

"Chris?" she tried again, but he didn't seem to hear her.

"Mom, there's something you need to know about Brett, about his family. They're not like us, or like normal witches. His family is famous in their own right, too, Mom. They have some of the most powerful spells and postions created in their Book. Thing is, they only have one power—the illusion power—in their family and each of them passes it down."

Piper only nodded vaguely and Chris continued.

"Here's the tricky part. When they die, a family member can pass on their powers to the last person they were with before they died, regardless if they're a demon, an innocent, a whitelighter, or another witch."

"So?" Piper asked cautiously.

Chris' eyes bugged out. "So?! So, they've been passing it down in the family for nearly five hundred years now! It's like a...famous heirloom for them. Between all of them, all those powers, the psychic energy increases and, eventually, they're illusions start to become real or thought projection."

Piper started to see where he was going with this. "So you're saying that, whatever he wanted, he could make happen?"

Chris thought about it for a minute. "I don't think so, not if he wanted to unmake people—there's no way he could have that much power—but between two hundred and fifty years worth of psychic powers from his family, then adding on Matt's, he'd come pretty close. If he got his family's powers...that'd be one hell of a power boost."

Piper's eyebrows furrowed as she thought over what he said. "Two hundred and fifty years? I thought you said..."

Chris' face fell a little more in sadness and shame now rather than concentration. "When Brett's parents died, when he came to live with us...let's just say there's a reason why he resents you."

Piper's silence said it all.

"Brett wouldn't kill his own parents before he was born so he must have gone after his uncle in Manhattan. He's the only other person left and has half of their family's legacy. If Brett gets to him before we do, if Brett gets those powers..." Chris trailed off.

Their silence was interrupted by a loud bang from downstairs.

Suddenly Paige orbed in a swirl of blue lights and smoke, looking ashen and smudged with a bright smile on her face.

"I found him!" she said excitedly. "He's in New York."

* * *

I'm sorry I didn't update sooner (I hate school)! From now on, I'm going to update every Sunday night/Monday moring so it'll be ready for the week. That would feel good.

Also, I know this chapter sucked, but it does have it's purposes in the future, so...keep that in mind.

Thank you.

Devil's Archangel.


	21. Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty One

2:48 P.M.

"Are you sure this will work?" Piper asked.

"It's all we got so far," answered Paige.

"Do we have the potions?" asked Phoebe.

"Yeah," answered Chris. "Mom and I just finished them." He took a vial of different colors and pointed separately at each. "We got one for freezing, one to make you invisible, one for binding, one for blasting, and one for scalding," Chris said with a grimace.

Everyone else was just kind enough not to point it out.

"Okay," breathed Piper. "Let's get this show started." She rubbed her hands together as if to clean them and then smiled at Paige. "Do you have the crystal cage?"

Paige nodded. "Yup. All set up and ready to go. Although, it would be best if you and Phoebe blessed them, too. Just in case."

"We don't have time," said Piper hastily. "Besides, if we do this right, we should have more than enough time to get the rest of the stuff ready by the time he comes to."

She looked over the circle that had formed in front of her as each of them picked up several potions and various other magical weapons.

"Okay, you guys," she said, trying to sound as confident as possible despite the faltering her voice just did. "Let's do it."

* * *

A figure slipped through the darkness of an empty foyer so large that it could easily serve as a hurricane shelter if needed. The figure shifted quietly through the entrance, quickly making its way to the enormous staircase in the middle of the room leading up into the upper half of the house, seeming as if it knew, by heart, the insides of the rather large labyrinth.

The figure paused halfway up the stairs to look around the many various portraits on the walls surrounding the circular room with its high ceiling, bathed in the blue light of the moon from the French windows from higher up, as if studying them with new interest or a familiar nostalgia. It could be seen shaking its head underneath its hood and then continue its long march up the stairs when, suddenly...it paused again, cocking its head in a manner that suggested it detected something only it could hear.

"NOW!!!" someone screamed and the figure frantically searched the spacious, but clear and uncluttered room for the owner of the voice. It was able to dodge two very close potions and a levitated kick before it flipped up the stairs to look back down and reassess the situation before he was quickly ambushed, only to find that there was no one there.

"NOW!" the voice screamed again and, this time, the figure only managed to dodge three out of five of them and was knocked off balance as another kick came his way. Piper, Paige, and Chris grew closer from the base of the stairs as Phoebe started drifting away, moving her hands up and down her shoulders in a warming motion, muttering something about "cold" and "ice" and that "it was so cold."

The figure still laid, sprawled on the floor, and Chris jumped up into a flying tackle in his attempt to in it down, but when his hands should have connected with ratty, old cloth, they went straight through. Chris jumped back and then the figure drew its hood, revealing face that held a smirk and the coldest eyes he had ever seen before disappearing entirely in a flash of white.

"Chris?" Piper asked worriedly from the bottom of the stairs.

"Run!" Chris cried as he made his way for the bottom of the stairs, barely dodging a boulder-sized ball of light following him down. The ball of light kept going, passing Chris and the sisters as they ducked and connected with the front door, completely disintegrating it where it stood.

"I'm disappointed, Chris," a voice from high up said. "Did you _really_ think you could catch me _that_ surprised?" it said, lips curling into a smirk, a parody of a hurt expression, as a second figure floated down from the high ceiling. "Really, Chris, you wound me."

"Again!" screamed Piper as she and Paige uselessly began throwing potions at the figure while Chris could only stare in shock and Phoebe collapsing on the ground, gasping for air, her breath icy.

The figure waved an arm, easily deflecting the various potions hurdled towards it, and then waved his other arm, sending the girls sliding across the floor of the room.

"Mom!" Chris yelled, missing the figure turn invisible for a second, floating above the middle of the stairs and reappearing behind him.

"Now, _this_ should be fun," it said, darkly amused, as one hand curled around Chris' wrist, twisting his arm behind his back, as the other brought a silver athame toward his throat. "Yeah. _Real_ fun."

"Chris!" Piper screamed, not for the first time cursing her current state and how it hindered her movements. "Chris!" she screamed as a light slowly developed around them, springing up to form a barrier around the two.

"We'll see you really soon," the figure said in a mock-innocent voice as the two slowly vanished in the swirls of blue and white light.

"Paige!" Piper yelled as her was sister already turning into a swirl of lights, attempting to orb past the barrier, only to be bounced back and thrown to the wall when she tried. "Paige!" Piper screamed again from where she was on the floor, only this time her tone had a more concerned pitch to it.

"I'm alright!" Paige yelled in response. "A little disoriented, but alright."

"No," muttered Piper. "No! I can't lose him now! I _won't_ lose him now!" she screamed as her thoughts once again focused on her son. She slowly got up and attempted to blast the barrier down, and was wonderfully surprised when it didn't bounce of as well and blast _her_. She tried again and again and again and again and...again, all the while making no progress.

"Sweetie," she heard Paige whisper against her, wrapping her arms around Piper's. "You're not getting anywhere. Stop."

"No! I can't! I have to—sniffle—save him," she said, shaking off Paige's hold and trying once more and shattering the barrier to reveal...nothing.

"What? But...where are they?" Piper said, eyebrows furrowing in bewilderment.

"They're long gone," said Paige quietly, again wrapping her arms around her sister in comfort. "This must have been a distraction. There's nothing here," she said matter-of-factly. "Phoebe's down, the baby may be hurt...Piper, we need to regroup."

"No, I can't" Piper started.

"You can't help Chris if you make it so there won't be one in the future!" Paige snapped, then looking defeated. "We need to go."

Piper turned and began to make her way towards her other sister on the ground when...

"Did you hear?" she asked as she cocked her head.

"It sounds like...fighting," Paige answered slowly. "Brett."

"Chris," Piper said breathily. "Where's it coming from?"

"Upstairs."

"But that could take forever," Piper snapped. "I mean, have you _seen_ the size of this house."

"It's coming from the attic," Paige said, eyes never leaving the staircase.

"How do you know?" asked Piper.

"Because," Paige answered equal parts amused and tired. "It's _always_ the attic."

* * *

The figure stepped in close and kicked at Chris' head, but was blocked by Chris' left hand. It tried a split second punch to his face with its left hand, but Chris' blocked with his right. The figure tried with his right arm but was met with a cross block with both hands as they curled around its arm and was sent hurdling towards the opposite wall where it fell, crumpling to the floor.

It laughed.

"Oh, Chris," it said with general amusement. "You haven't practicing. I gave you, like, three openings right there."

"I don't want to hurt you," Chris replied curtly as the other half snorted, half scoffed.

"Funny, 'cause I want to hurt _you_!" it yelled before launching itself into the air, barreling straight towards Chris' chest, who just happened to orb out, causing the figure to miss entirely. However, the figure anticipated this and already began twisting itself mid air and using its levitation power to propel itself for a few more precious second as it caused a rain of white, jagged lights down to where Chris had reappeared.

Chris managed to deflect them in time, but they must have been a distraction because a second later he was suddenly sprawled over the attic's Persian rugs, blood oozing out of his mouth where the figure had kicked at his cheek, his arm, and his mid section.

"You know, you should really avoid the hurt look because, let me tell you, it's not very becoming on you," the figure said, nonchalantly as it walked in a oblivious manner toward Chris. "Sexy as hell, maybe, but...not becoming."

"Why?" Chris asked as he surreptitiously shifted his good hand, the hand that hadn't been crushed when he blocked a kick, around to his side. "Why are you doing this?"

The figure snapped. "I _told_ you. I'll do what you couldn't, what you refused to do. I'll take your responsibility to your family and kill that son of a _bitch_ for what he's done," the figure spat as he rounded on Chris, kneeling down and grabbing him by the color of his shirt. "And if that means I have to step on a few ants to do it, well...let's just say I'll get the job done."

"I won't let you get away with this," Chris deadpanned and the figure chuckled.

"Huh. That's funny, because, last time I checked, you were in no position to stop me," it said mock-warmly as its hand trailed down to Chris' already developing bruises on his rib cage and pressed down cruelly as Chris screamed.

Chris conjured a Light bomb and flicked it at the figure's chest, but was intercepted by a barely erected energy barrier which caused the other to be thrown across the room and into a wall, once again falling in a heap of ratty, old robes and played limbs.

It laughed.

"Don't you get it by now, Chris?" it said amused as it used its levitation powers to pick itself up from the floor. "Between Matt's powers, our psychic techniques, and my fighting styles and mind, you haven't got a chance, _especially_ when you've yet to take that unbinding potion," it said disapprovingly. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. What _are_ we going to do with you?"

Chris, who had just picked himself off the floor, knew that, normally, he would have felt his blood boil in rage or chill in fear, but all he could muster was...sad surprise.

"What _happened_ to you?" Chris asked once more, a tinge of desperation in his voice.

He saw Brett's mask crack for a second, just a second, but crack it did. "Now, Chris, we already played this game. _Really_, you're starting to bore me, and you _know_ how much I don't like being bored."

Chris felt the vice around his heart tighten just a little more.

"Was it Porter or Megan?" Chris asked hesitantly. "Because, we can still find a way to bring to bring Megan back, and we can find Porter, he has to be somewhere—"

Chris saw Brett's eyes flash and darken. "Shut up."

Chris stepped forward, scared, but unwilling to back down. "Is it Prue?" he asked, voice serious, "Because, last time I checked, she was fine at the sub-base in the Mun-Lunn Mountains. She has her own level, without anyone and there are wards on the walls so she can't feel anyone else's—"

Brett's eyes flared. "I said, 'SHUT UP!!!'" he yelled, waving his arm, hand in a scratching motion.

Chris felt the harsh sting on his chest felt the blood drip through the slits of his shirt. "Was it Matt?" Chris asked, taking another step. "'Cause...I don't know what to say about that," he said, eyes watery. "I'm sorry you had to—"

"SHUT UP!!! JUST...SHUT...UP!!!" Brett yelled as he sent Chris flying into several bookcases and walls until his arm grew stiff from the tension he kept there.

Chris got up, bloody and red from places he knew would bruise. "Was it me?" he asked, taking a difficult and painful step forward. "Did you feel like I abandoned you?" Chris asked slowly, tears falling feely now. "Because I'm sorry if you felt that way. It's just...even if I had Bianca and you were my best friend...it just...it still hurt to see you and Wyatt together...happy."

"STOP IT!!!" yelled Brett, a voice so strong and determined echoed through the attic's high ceiling. A white light surrounded Brett's body, pouring out of him with such a force, that when Chris fell against the wall that, had it not been for his ability to move his legs, he would have thought it severed his spine.

"Stop it!" yelled Brett again, but the light already started waning, and Brett started swaying on his feet, energy spent. "Just...stop it," he said breathily. He lifted an arm to wipe the tears on the sleeve of his robes just when the sisters orbed in.

"Chris?" Piper asked when she saw his figure, bloody and bruising, slumped on the floor and Brett's arm held high in the air. Misinterpreting the situation, Piper threw a potion just when Chris looked up.

"Mom! No!" Chris yelled trying to deflect the potion but was too weak to do anything.

The potion caught Brett's left arm and he let out a primal sound that shook the attic.

"Ahhh!!!! That hurts!" Brett grimaced as he looked at Chris and then Piper. "I guess that's what I get for playing," he said as he locked eyes with Chris again. "Lesson the first, Love. 'Never let your guard down.' I can't believe _I_ did."

"What..." Chris asked, disbelief coloring his face.

Piper and Paige threw more potions his way but Brett easily dodged them by levitating. He flipped his way higher up and, just as he was coming out of a tuck, he uncrossed his arms sending a shower of white, jagged lights again that Piper and Paige had difficulty stopping.

He locked eyes with each of them, including Phoebe who was gasping even stronger now, breath visible, before locking them with Chris'.

"This isn't over," Brett said, coldly, but thankfully, this time, without the mock-endearment of an insane person.

A burst of smoke surrounded him and explosions circled the girls, although they weren't under any pain. Just as suddenly as it had come, the explosions vanished and smoke in a bright white flash and the faint sound a door slamming could be heard coming from downstairs.

"Chris?" asked Piper quietly. "Chris? Honey? Are you okay?" he heard, but, somehow the words weren't registering, even as warm arms and steady hands enveloped him in a hug and began inspecting his many wounds.

All he could see was the replay of what happened in the past ten minutes, and Chris couldn't help but feel like an idiot.

It wasn't until he thought about it—_really_ thought about it—did it occur to him that he saw Brett's eyes flash. It didn't occur to him until seconds later that they must have flashed—for the first _real _time since Brett had been here—by their own accord because at the time Brett was too busy trying to kill Chris for Brett to worry about a minor and off-subject matter as eye-flashing is.

Chris smiled.

* * *

Here you guys! Sorry if it was a bit late, but, hello, labor day.

Anyway, I hope you like it.

Devil's Archangel.


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

4:55 A.M.

"No. No way."

"But—"

"I said 'no,' Chris,"

"But, Mom—I can't just—"

"I don't care! Do you have _any_ idea how many healing potions we had to use on you?! How many cuts and bruises and—and cuts and broken bones you had?! How scared I was?! Do you?! 'Cause I do! And, let me tell you, it was a lot, Chris. _A lot_."

"But, I'm the only one who can—"

"I said, 'No!' Are—are you stupid or just _insane_?! He nearly _killed _you, Chris!"

"Well, I can't just leave him out there!"

"You won't have to!" Piper paused, eyes fuming. "We're going."

Chris scoffed. "You can't take him."

"And _you_ can?!" Piper's eyes, if possible, angled even more sharply. "'Cause, yeah, you did _such_ a good job _last_ time!"

Chris ground his teeth. "I have a better shot at it then you do. I know Brett's moves."

"And he probably knows yours, which leads you no where. At least, with us, we have a chance at surprising him."

"That's just it. You _can't_. I already told you, Brett's a psychic and he has one of the most focused minds and strongest wills I've ever seen. Add that to Matt's powers and he can force a premonition whenever he wants," Chris stared, unflinchingly, into his mother's eyes. "He probably already knows you're coming."

"And what were you going to do: bore him to sleep? You can barely stand, Chris, and with your concussion...one bump to the head and your out like a lamp! He'd kill you and none of us would even be there to help!"

"I_ know_ I can beat him."

Piper sneered. "Funny, seeing as how he completely kicked your ass last time."

"Look. I know for a fact that if Brett wanted to kill me, I'd be dead. Brett's efficient and fast. He's also the one who taught Matt how to use his powers. I'm telling you, he's either one of two things: he doesn't want to kill me, or...he doesn't know how to use Matt's powers. Either way, I have the upper hand."

"Upper hand or not, you're not leaving this house."

"But...Aunt Phoebe, Aunt Paige?"

Paige looked away, arms across her chest, and went to stand near a table.

"Piper, maybe we should—" Phoebe let out in a small voice.

Piper's voice was filled with righteous anger and disbelief, even though it faltered just a little. "You can't be serious."

Chris was kind enough not to smile. "I'll get started on some potions."

Piper's lips thinned and she briskly walked for the attic door.

"Piper—" Phoebe began.

Piper didn't stop walking and her voice was harsh, cold, and swift. "Don't you _dare_ talk to me."

* * *

Brett stumbled into the dusty room and fell to the floor in exhaustion, one hand still clutching his left arm, breathing harshly between hisses, when he was met with an energy ball three inches from his face.

His lips curled slightly.

"Alden."

An old man stood between four demons, all dressed in black. He had a haggard face, as if worn down by more than just time, his lips curled down in a frown and his eyes shinning of sympathy.

"Someone told me you were coming," Brett sneered. "Didn't think you'd actually have the balls to face me."

The old man just looked at him, unfazed by the provocation. "Oh, Brett..."

Brett's eyes shone with fury at his pitying tone. "You helped me, so I'm gonna help you," Brett voiced harshly. "Get out of here. Go back. Go back and I won't kill you where you stand."

The old man just looked at him with sadness and regret. "I can't do that, Brett," he said in a low, gravelly voice. "Wyatt is serious this time. My wife and children are at stake. I'm sorry."

Brett had to fight to stifle his laugh. "I don't get a choice in this at all, do I?"

Alden looked away when he spoke as a collar materialized in his hand. "You could come quietly."

A sickening quiet settled over the dark room.

"Alden?" the old man heard and he picked his head up.

Brett's eyes were pure white.

"Go to hell."

Ten minutes later, Brett was quietly cleaning his wound, grimacing every now and then, in the corner of the room as too few tears refused to stay behind his eyelids.

* * *

"How is everything?" Phoebe asked as she walked into the attic.

Chris didn't look up as he carefully finished putting in the last ingredient, tongue slightly sticking out in concentration. "Fine. I'm almost done. Aunt Paige is scrying for him in her room. She promised to orb up here as soon as she finds him."

Phoebe nodded slightly as she crossed over opposite the table to rest against the back of the couch so she could meet his eye contact, if he wanted. "She'll come around, you know."

Chris stilled momentarily as the comment registered before resuming with his work, eyes never leaving the cauldron. "Do you really think so?"

Phoebe smiled a soft smile this time. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

They stood in silence for a while as Chris finished making his potion.

"Thanks," Chris said softly, eyes never leaving the potion.

Phoebe smiled just a little brighter.

"Anytime."

* * *

"You should really get that looked at," a silky voice said as it came closer to where Brett had positioned himself on the floor in his exhaustion.

"It'll be fine," he said, surprisingly to her, with little venom.

"Really? Because, it wouldn't be a problem for me," it said.

Brett half laughed, half scoffed. "And why would you want to help me? You hate me, remember?"

The voice laughed quietly. "Because helping you helps me," she said honestly, breathily, as she slid down to the floor beside him. "I'd give anything for Wyatt."

Brett didn't say anything.

They sat in silence for a while.

"Did you tell the Avatars?" Brett asked after a while.

She laughed quietly as she shook her head from side to side. "No. That bastard Alden caught me on the way back," she said with an ironic happy tone. "Fucking trounce."

They both laughed.

Silence settled over them after.

Finally, "Want a fag?" she asked as she flamed one into her hand.

Brett chuckled lightly. "Who doesn—oh." Brett gave a sly smile. "I didn't know demons smoked."

She just shrugged, eyes blinking shut momentarily. "Eh. It comes with torturing humans for a few millennia. You pick up a few things."

They sat in silence again.

Then, "So, what do we do now?"

Brett sighed heavily. "Go back and tell the Avatars. Tell them that to assemble their troops. The battle starts, whether I'm there or not, in thirty-six hours."

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion she turned to study eyes that were fixated on the floor. "What would you need back here? I mean, this witch your after, the brother, he's not that important, is he?"

Brett half laughed, half snorted. "I really don't know."

She pondered that for a second. "That's really fucked up."

Brett definitely laughed that time. "Sheeyah."

When their laughter died down, "You realize, if you don't make it back, the Resistance won't stand a chance. It'll be a massacre, New York all over again."

Brett smiled a small smile. "Yeah, I know."

They sat in silence again.

"You know, we should really move," she said.

Brett snorted. "Sheeyah."

Silence.

"Can you move?" she asked.

"Nah."

"Hmph."

Silence.

"Can you—"

"Sure."

Silence.

"How did..."

She sighed. "He was the easiest to find. I had some lower class demons shift through dimensions to find him. The other one...her temple's barrier is pretty strong—"

Brett snorted, interrupting. "It should be, all four of us gave up a hell of a lot of power to put up."

"—and, the other one...well, no one ever goes there. Thoron's nice enough to just materialize food for her," she smiled. "He's cool. You know. For an Elder."

Brett smiled.

"It won't be a problem."

Silence.

"Thanks."

She shrugged. "'s a'right."

Silence.

She got up and started walking to the table to pick up a time potion.

"I can't believe we were civil for this long," she said shaking her head. "Hell, I can't believe we were civil at all."

Brett snorted. "You just had to mention it."

She laughed and started walking again.

Then, "Lexa?"

She turned around.

"Would you...do you mind?"

She shrugged again. "Sure. Why not?"

Brett's arm never felt better.

* * *

"Alright, then we should..." Chris trailed off as a knock sounded on the door.

Phoebe looked at Paige and grabbed her hand. "Come on, Paige. I need your help on that last potion," she said hurriedly as she dragged Paige towards the door, smiling her fake smile.

"Don't. You don't have to," Piper said in a resigned voice. "Stay."

She turned her determined-to-be-but-failing-miserably nonchalant eyes towards Chris.

"What can I do?"

* * *

Here you go. I'll try and get the next chapter up tonight.

Hope you like.

Thanks.

Devil's Archangel


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

Wednesday 5:55 A.M.

"Do you think we can do this?" asked Phoebe.

Paige stared at Piper and Chris as they finished making the last potion.

"Yeah. I think we can," she said nodding as she turned her head to Phoebe and then the book. "I'm sure of it."

Phoebe's eyebrows wrinkled and her voice was curious. "How can you be so sure? How do you know that this will work?"

"Because," Paige said as she stole one more glance at Chris' almost smiling face as he watched his mom stir and curse about the uncooperative goo. "It has to."

* * *

"Are you sure that's what you want?"

"..."

"..."

"Yeah. It is."

"..."

"Tell him... Tell him a friend's coming back. Catch him up."

"..."

"He's going to need to be in top shape if my plan's gonna work."

"..."

"..."

"What about... Are you sure you want to bring the other one back? I mean...he hasn't exactly fallen for your 'broken dove' routine, luv. What makes you think he'll come back willingly?"

"..."

"..."

"Do you...do you know what this is?"

"... Um...yes. That's a power-sucking athame if I'm not mistaken."

"..."

"..."

"Hmm.—That's what I thought."

* * *

"Okay, so, basically, that should work..." Everyone stared at Paige. "Okay, maybe not but, I mean, come on! Given the circumstances—"

"Shh!!!" sushed Piper as she cocked her head in the direction of the attic door.

Four pairs of eyes widened.

"Brett," whispered Chris.

Piper's eyebrows met her hairline. "The healing potions! We can't let him heal! Paige—"

"I'm on it!" she said as she orbed out taking Phoebe by the hand.

"Okay, we got to stay calm," Piper said as she held onto Chris' hand.

"Okay, Mom, you're hurting me," Chris said, gesturing with his eyes to his wrist.

"What?" Piper asked as she looked down and noticed how hard she was gripping. "Oops. Sorry."

"'Skay," he shrugged, then chuckled. "I swear, it's like...sometimes I think you forget your not in labor yet."

Huh?

"Huh?" asked Piper.

Chris ducked his eyes away. "Nothing. It's just, sometimes, you act as if your already in labor, what with the yelling and the hitting and the exploding. It's quite funny actually." Chris smiled, then gave a solemn expression. "You know. Sometimes."

"Huh. You're smiling." Piper said lamely. "We might be facing death in the very face tonight—at the hands of your former lover, no less—and your smiling—possibly joking, for once—but, still, smiling," she said as she diverted her eyes to look for something useful. "Yeah, I'm sure nothing will happen to us. Nope. Nothing at all."

Chris rolled his eyes, but smiled. "I'm just saying...I'm not even a kid yet, and—"

Piper's eyebrows furrowed. "What did you say?"

Chris eyebrows furrowed in response. "That I'm not even a kid yet?"

Piper's eyes opened wide in shock, seconds before they heard a thump on the second floor. "Oh, my God! Kids! Wyatt!"

Realization dawned on Chris. "I'm already on it—" he said as he almost orbed out.

"No. I'll do it. You stay here. Brett's after one of you. You'll be safe in here!" she yelled as she wobbled her way out of the attic door.

* * *

"Wyatt! Honey! Are you okay?" Piper asked as she quickly strolled over to the crib. "Sweetie, are you alright?" she cooed as she quickly surveyed the room, one hand poised to strike.

"Piper?" Phoebe asked as she and Paige orbed in behind her. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought that Brett might go after Wyatt, so I came down," Piper said.

Paige sighed. "Yeah, that's what we thought, too."

Suddenly a loud crash and explosion could be heard from the attic.

Piper quickly put Wyatt down. "Wyatt! Danger!" she screamed and a familiar blue force field went up around the little boy.

"Go!" screamed Piper as she slipped her hand into Paige's.

When the girls orbed in they saw Chris with an athame to his throat and drips of something light blue trailing down the corners of his mouth.

"Well, now," Brett smiled as he saw the girls orb in. "Won't this be fun."


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Four

Wednesday 6:03 A.M.

"Harm so much as a hair on his head and they'll _never_ find your pieces," Piper voiced, cold and harsh, even as one third of their Power of Three was already collapsing behind her in cold breath, and another third was rushing to her side.

Brett chuckled.

"Funny, seeing as how I'm in control of everything," he smiled. "'Cause...let's see. You try and kill me, and I'll kill him—" Brett paused as he took the time to twist Chris' left arm just a _little_ more tightly. "—and if I kill him and you come after me, well...I'll have taken his magic by then and be more than strong enough to take you on..." he cooed, as he smiled smugly, in a sarcastic manner at Piper. "Gee, what _are_ you going to do?"

Piper ground her teeth and both stared at each other for what seemed like the longest time, even as Piper's face clouded over every now and then with a show of emotion even Brett couldn't decipher.

Suddenly, Piper dropped to the floor—hands and knees first, so as not to hurt the baby—and rolled away, towards her sister, screaming, "Go for it!"

Distracted, Brett didn't realize his hold on Chris loosened just enough for Chris to orb away without taking Brett with him. He reappeared before Brett again and hit his chest squarely with a low-level Light Bomb, sending the smaller boy rolling to the center of the floor, sprawled and heavily panting.

Brett, literally, bounced back up and turned his body, arms crossed, ready to send another rain of jagged lights straight at Chris when a shadow moved in the corner of his eye. Brett turned viciously towards it and saw...Chris? He caught another movement and turned to see yet _another_ Chris.

"Cute," he mumbled with a slight smirk. "What is this? Another attempt at a lame tactic?" he sneered. "Come on, Chris. I'm the king of illusions. This didn't work on me when we were kids, it sure as hell won't work on me now."

But when Chris answered him...Brett didn't hear it out loud. He heard it in his mind.

In triplicate.

_Sorry, Brett, but this isn't an illusion_, Chris "said." The one to the front of Brett lifted up his hand to Brett's face and a Light Bomb appeared, but before he could fire it, Brett jumped up and kicked that one's chest and used it as a supporting wall to propel himself backwards and kick the other two, before disappearing.

The Chris(s) eyes spread around wildly eyes looking for the slightest hint of an invisible presence before all three cocked their heads towards the center of the ceiling and looked up.

_There_! all three mentally screamed as they looked up just in time to avoid kicks to all three of their heads. They each orbed around Brett as he landed, forming a triangle and each raised his left hand forward, trapping Brett with their telekinesis, while their right hands glowed, a Light Bomb but extended to form a dome around where Brett was standing.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Piper screamed, "Yeah, yeah! Don't rush me!"

She linked her hands with Phoebe—who was still shivering on the floor—and Paige as the two began chanting.

Brett's eyes widened in horror.

* * *

_Flashback_

_Wednesday 4:35 P.M._

"_How do you know if that would even work?" Paige asked. "I mean, do we even really know what he's here for? 'Cause it would help us out more if we knew what he was after."_

_Piper snorted. "Hello? Yeah, you with the unfocusable eyes. Where the hell have you been? If you haven't noticed, the bad guy's kind of after my son."_

_Chris winced. "Can we not call him a bad guy..."_

_Piper's eyes narrowed. "Are you kidding me? He tried to kill you and still you're worried that he just might be a teeny weeny little bit...oh, I don't know...**sociopathic**?"_

_Chris scowled. "Brett's not crazy, Mom."_

_Piper sneered. "Oh, really? Yeah, I got three cuts and two scrapes that say otherwise, buddy."_

_Phoebe groaned. "This is getting us nowhere! The important thing is to know what he's after!"_

_Paige eyebrows furrowed. "Wait. Didn't Brett say he needed your help?" she asked Chris._

_Chris froze._

"_You saw that?"_

_Paige gave an apologetic smile. _

_Chris winced, but let it go, his eyes narrowing. "Yeah...so. He just kept saying that he wasn't strong enough to take Wyatt on his own," Chris shrugged, but his voice had a hard edge to it. "That's nothing new. No one can."_

_Phoebe got in step. "Yeah, but why would he need your help? I mean...your powers—as much as we've seen—are pretty much basic. How would that help Brett? I mean, he could've just picked up any ol' demon if he wanted back up."_

_Chris scoffed. "Oh, thanks."_

_Phoebe scowled. "You know what I mean."_

_Paige's eyebrows furrowed even more. "I get what she's saying," Paige nodded. "When Brett said he wanted to take you back...he mentioned something about light and dark, something about a third power..." she trailed off. "Do you know what he was talking about?"_

_Chris just waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Don't worry about it. Mom used to tell us all the time that it was just a story. Brett and Matt were the only one whoever really believed."_

"_Still—" Phoebe began._

"_Look, it's nothing." Chris said in final tone of voice, a little harsher than he intended, but he didn't apologize. "Just...let it go."_

_Phoebe nodded with wide eyes, but Paige just scowled a little bit more._

"_He said that..." she started but trailed off. "Brett said that your powers were...bound," she stated uncertainly. "If that's true, then...then maybe that's what he came here for: an **actual** power boost..." she said as she trailed off. "He wouldn't even need you alive, he'd just need...your powers..." she trailed off, but then shook her head in confusion. "But, why would your powers be..."_

_Chris looked like he was about to be sick as his mouth opened and closed in nervousness, but Piper stepped in before anyone could notice._

"_Look, it doesn't matter how or why Chris' powers were bound. All that matter is that they were," she said gruffly, turning to Chris and greeting him with warm brown eyes. "Do you think his potion would work? The one to free your powers?"_

_Chris glance was steely. "No doubt."_

_Piper nodded. "Do you have still have one?"_

_Chris nodded, pulling a vial out of his pocket.. "Yeah. Right here."_

_Paige thought out loud. "If it's true, if you're supposed to be stronger than Matt, or at least equal to him, then..." she trailed off. "We might actually have a chance at winning this thing."_

_Phoebe sighed. "Yeah, that's fine for now, but what about after?" she asked as she looked at the other three people in the room. "I mean, we can't send him back, and we sure as hell expect him to stay here, not with all the emotional baggage he's carrying. Realistically, we don't even know what his problems are, let alone ways of finding them out."_

_The room settled in silence._

_Chris eyes darkened and his tone was low and dangerous._

"_There's a way."

* * *

_

"NO!!!" Brett screamed as a barrier erected from around him, pushing on the Chris(s) barriers and telekinetic holds, throwing all three out to the separate walls behind them.

But he was too late.

_"By sacred right and holy mark,_

_We ask for guidance and chance to see._

_Light mind's fire and dispel its dark,_

_And force the sight of memories!"_

* * *

Okay, I know that this chapter kind of sucked, but I wanted to finish it. 

Yes, cloning is one of Chris' powers...after he unbinds them...(don't worry...I know how to explain the Charmed Ones' Kids' pasts that won't make them look quite as dorky...or lifeless) so I will explain.

Shout outs: ravenuk01 (I'd never kill Chris!) and CalfiforniaChick.

Hope you don't hate.

Thanks

Devil's Archangel.


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Five

_Flashback_

Brett was sitting on the windowsill of the attic, quietly leafing through the Book as two heavy arms wrapped around his shoulders and legs appear on either side of his. He smiled a sad smile as he closed the book and took a deep breath before reading two o'clock on the grandfather clock he had Porter bring up to the attic because it kept getting trashed downstairs while Wyatt was never around to squeeze money out of to get it repaired.

"Hey," he said in a small, mostly relaxed voice. "I didn't think you'd be back this early."

He felt small nibbles and kisses going along the back of his neck as the other sniffed his hair.

"Um...uh...Matt's already asleep and...God...n-no one else's at ho-ho-home," he gasped, trying to hold in a moan as an ear lobe was taken into a mouth. "Now, th—tha—that's just ch—ch—cheating."

He felt the kissing stop and hot breath by his ear. "Good. We won't be disturbed, then."

Brett felt revulsion spread through him and he shot up from his seat, staggering back a good three feet while turning around, causing him to nearly trip on the rug.

"What the...what the _hell _do you think you're doing?!" he hissed, furiously rubbing the nape of his neck.

"Oh, come now, Brett, I was just having some fun," Wyatt teased as he got off the window bench and started towards the other boy. "Besides...I think you know what I think I was doing."

Brett crossed his arms and stepped back, putting as much distance between himself and Wyatt without making it seem like he was backing down. "Oh, I _know_ what kind of 'fun' you want, but, this little obsession of yours? Stops now."

Wyatt only smirked and slightly scoffed. "Oh, please—" Wyatt said as he stepped closer.

Brett grit his teeth and he knew that the fire building in stomach wasn't anything like the fire he felt when he was with Chris, and that just made him feel all kinds of dirty and disgusting.

"I'm warning you, Wyatt," Brett said as his gaze steeled. "Back off."

Wyatt only smirked again and this time the chuckle he chuckled was open and very hard to ignore. "Or what?" Wyatt asked coolly. "What could you possibly do?"

And then its Brett's turn to smirk because there was no way that Wyatt could be serious about this. "You mean besides trap you in your own mind for the next thirty years?" Brett cooed back, like spikes hidden underneath fresh grass. "'Cause, yeah, you could really hurt me as a vegetable."

Wyatt's stance shifted and the arrogant air that's usually around him seemed to have mostly evaporated and, besides his anger and hurt pride, only his crude, spoiled self was showing; the one that knows that he'll always get what he wants. Always.

"And, what? The others would just think that I was attacked by a demon? Would get _that_ close?" Wyatt answered back harshly, not unlike a man who's upset because his intention and bravado were seen right through and all his careful planning had been for naught. "Me? The most powerful being alive? No, that wouldn't be suspicious at all, wouldn't point back to you at all, because, honestly, you haven't shown the slightest bit of dislike for me since you got here," Wyatt bit back. "I mean, really, you're the only being between three hundred different races that have the kind of power. Do you really think you'd get away with it?"

Brett's eyes dimmed for a second and Wyatt caught it.

"What? No cutting remark? No witty reply?" Wyatt cooed. "Really, Brett I expected—"

Suddenly, the fire that had been on a slow burn in the pit of Brett's stomach burst from his torso and traveled all over his body, showing in his eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed in not a little anger, disbelief, and resentment as he spat back words fueled by hatred.

"Or I'll tell others all about your dirty little secret," Brett hissed in hushed whisper as Wyatt's expression shifted from slightly upest to pissed. "I'll tell them all about what you're up to down there, what you've been doing—"

Wyatt's lips curled, his teeth almost baring, as he stared down the shorter boy while white hot rage burned through him, speaking with harsh tones and dirty glares.

"And what, pray tell, have I been up to?" Wyatt hissed back. "And, even if I was, why would they believe you? It's not like you haven't made any mistakes based on assumptions recently. What makes you think your _precious_ family would side with you?"

For a moment, both just kept staring at each, locked in a battle of wills and wit.

Brett looked away first.

"I'll—I'll find something, Wyatt," Brett said as he turned to stalk out of the attic, shaking his head. "You were always messy. I'll find something, some mess or mistake you left, and then I'll get Chris and we'll—"

When Wyatt spoke, his tone shifted from pissed to completely calm, back to that smug persona of himself and Brett didn't like it.

"How is my little brother anyway?" Wyatt asked in mock innocence.

Brett froze in the door way.

"I feel like I haven't seen for years."

Brett turned slowly, eyes squinting, voice raspy and hoarse, caught between lying and giving Wyatt what he wanted.

"He's at the club."

Wyatt just kept on smiling that condescending smile; the one used by poker players who knew the other person's hand or wolves who knew that they just cornered their prey.

"Really? I thought he'd be somewhere else at this time of night," Wyatt chuckled and his voice got lower as he stared at Brett under hooded eyes. "I know I would be."

Brett visibly stiffened and he couldn't help slipping some of the revulsion out with his voice. "Leave him out of this."

"Oh, I won't be doing anything," Wyatt smiled, almost laughing. "Although, I can't say anything for the Maraki demon he went after tonight."

A pause.

"He'll just have to be surprised when he finds that he just attacked an entire tribe."

A second passed between the exchange, but it seemed like the longest second in the history of their lives.

His jaw tightening, "You're the next Source," Brett said with slightly widened eyes as comprehension and abhorrence washed over him, sounding more like a statement than a question.

Wyatt just grinned.

"An ambush?" Brett said disgustedly. "You coward."

Wyatt scoffed, "You're one to talk—"

Brett's eyes blazed.

"He's your brother!"

"He's a means to an end," Wyatt simply stated.

For another moment, cold, arrogant eyes met defiant, angry ones, neither giving way, neither budging.

Then—

A small, nearly unheard sigh.

"What do you want?"


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Six

_flashback_

"He's almost there? Are you sure?...No. No, we're still at home...Okay. Okay. We'll be right there," Matt said as he closed his cell phone and sighed as he looked at his watch.

"Prue! Hurry up! We're gonna be late!" he yelled as he looked up the stairs.

"Was that Porter?" asked a voice from behind him.

The boy with dark hazel eyes and dark hair turned around to help the other boy carry the packages. "Yeah. He says Chris and him are almost to P3. We need to get this stuff over there. Now."

Brett's eyebrows scrunched up in concern and his eyes traveled to the staircase. "Is Prue the last one? Where are the others?"

Matt rolled his eyes in the direction upstairs. "Yeah. Everyone else's in position, but Prue seems to be having trouble."

Brett sighed as he put his stuff down on the table. "Okay, why don't you take the cake and presents ahead and we'll meet you there?"

"I can't. I'm gonna need help setting up everything, plus it's gonna take a while to get the rest of this stuff inside P3 without being seen. Besides, a friend of mine's coming in from out of town. I was going to take them to the party. You see, we kind of have this deal—" Matt said as he waved his arms towards the dinning room table.

"Then just orb it in," Brett said as he started towards the living room. "And just use a spell to decorate the club so you can pick your friend up afterwards."

Matt's eyes widened slightly in disbelief. "Do you think that that's such a good idea. You know. Considering..." he trailed off as he made a vague eye motion towards the ceiling.

Brett stiffened as he paused tearing the couch apart. "If they cared, they'd do something about it," he said as he started moving cushions again, resentment tingeing his voice. "And...why would you even care, anyway? God knows they screwed us over more than once."

Matt's eyes narrowed slightly in concern, his voice soft. "I was just saying—"

"Look," Brett said as he stood to look at Matt's eyes. "I get why you care. I do. I just...I don't get why you _care_."

Matt closed his eyes. "I just meant—"

"All I'm saying is, if they cared they would have helped us earlier," Brett said as he turned back to the couch.

"Brett..." Matt said in a breathy voice, almost sighing, as he his face softened. "I was talking about the party..."

Brett just started shoving the pillows more roughly. "I know. Okay? I know. It's just..., look, there are a lot of things going on and—have you seen the damn car keys!?"

Matt stepped forward, his voice still soft. "Brett..."

Brett just sighed and his shoulders slacked as he turned to face Brett. "I know. Believe me, I know. It's just...today is supposed to be perfect, right? Do you have _any_ idea how long it's been since we could actually have something even _remotely _like this to take all our minds off our problems? Meaning no demons, no drama, no—anything, so can we please just try and have that? Please? I mean...you do realize that this is one of the few moments that Chris actually takes a break for?"

Matt just looked at him, not knowing how to respond. "Brett..."

Brett sighed. "Look, I forgot that I had to do something," Brett said as he covered his eyes with his hand, "so could you please just help me out here?"

Matt's eyes shifted uneasily, but he still raised his right hand. "Keys."

Brett sighed again as he walked over to Matt and took the keys from his hand.

"Just...go. I'm sure Prue can find a way to the club herself. Just go," Brett sighed as he looked at Matt's brown eyes.

Matt nodded slowly, but his eyes shone of concern and disbelief. "Okay...I'll just...I'll see you at the party, okay?"

Brett sighed. "Yeah. Yeah. Of course. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Okay," Matt said slowly as he stepped back to move into the dinning room. "I'll see you later," he said as he and the presents and cake disappeared in a shower of bright lights.

Brett sighed loudly and slumped into one of the couches as he put his head in his hands. He paused to breathe for a while, just sitting there in silence, before standing back up and making his way into the sun room and out of the sight of the staircase.

"I can practically smell the sleeze. Show yourself now, you bastard," Brett hissed into the air.

Laughter seemed to fill up the room as a body walked out of the flame that appeared just six feet in front of the other boy.

"What? No kiss 'hello?'" Wyatt teased.

Brett eyes hardened. "We had a deal."

Wyatt chuckled again. "You see that's the thing about deals with devils...we have a tendency to change the rules."

Brett's lips thinned and his eyebrows furrowed, voice a dark whisper. "It was just supposed to be that _one_ time—"

Wyatt's eyebrows furrowed and his attention was drawn to the clock, effectively shutting Brett up and pissing him off at the same time. "I'm sorry, you see we're running out of time—"

"_You're _running out of time," Brett corrected, as Wyatt curled his hands together and as he brought them up to his mouth to breathe through them, a gesture not unlike a parent trying to explain something to a slow child.

"Let me put it this way..." Wyatt said in a serious, nonchalant voice. "You could either, well, come with me...or I'll have all your friends killed."

Brett's eyes shown their usual fiery defiance, but, now, even through the silence and the thickest air of tension either had ever seen, Wyatt could see understanding worm its way into them.

He smiled.

Brett winced and he looked away. "Let's just do this."

Wyatt smiled again as he took Brett's outstretched hand with his left one and wound his right one across Brett's waist, making him the other boy shudder in disgust, as they flamed out.

"No need to be nervous, my dear," he whispered with mock concern. "The demons loved you."

* * *

"Harder!" Brett yelled as he blocked a kick that would have left him headless.

Matt ducked again as Brett sent a punch in his direction, grabbing onto Porter's forearm to swing himself back and propel Porter forward.

Brett ducked and rolled out of the way as Porter's fist missed his left shoulder by centimeters. Matt crossed the distance between them easily and began sparring with Brett to isolate his attention so Porter could catch him off guard.

Brett fell down by a sweep kick from Matt and Porter had jumped and was coming back down to punch his face, but Brett rolled out of the way and was across the cold floor of the attic before either of the other two could catch him.

All three stayed still on either side of the room, panting and staring closely as to not be caught unawares. Suddenly, Brett flipped forward, separating into three as he landed and charged the other two again.

"Faster! Stronger! Harder!" the one that was attacking Matt yelled. He brought punches and kicks that Matt was only scarcely able to avoid.

"You're kicks aren't high enough!" another one yelled at Porter as the other man tried to attack it, always only nearly hitting.

The third one jumped between the two groups and made a mid-air split, causing both Porter and Matt sprawling to opposite sides of the room. The two remaining Brett(s) disappeared and only the third one was standing in between them, panting, eyebrows furrowed, and eyes furious.

"Let's go!" he yelled as the two began to pick themselves up from the floor. He split into three people again and started attacking.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Your powers are best used for defense, not offence so just stand the hell still!" the one attacking Porter yelled.

"You're half-whitelighter, for crying out loud! Use your damn powers to just _sense_ for the right one!" the one attacking Matt yelled. Matt avoided the punch to the chest that would have left him unconscious before pausing and brought his hand to Brett's stomach and walked right through it as punched into thin air.

Suddenly, it seemed like Matt was just picked off the floor and sent crashing through the Brett avoiding Porter's hits, and straight into the larger boy's body.

"You can do better than that!" Brett yelled as his illusions cleared and he materialized in front of them. "Focus!"

Porter shoved Matt off him and began attacking Brett on his own. Brett ducked the punch Porter sent his way, caught Porter in his stomach, and flipped backward, almost catching Porter with a kick to the face had Porter not phased through it.

"I said 'focus!'" yelled Brett again as he landed. By now Matt had gotten off the floor and was standing next to Porter as both boys went forward to attack him simultaneously.

Brett leaped to the side to avoid the kick to his stomach and drew his hand to stop the punch towards his head. He flipped backward to land and execute a sweep kick that was blocked by Porter's preternaturally strong forearm as Matt used Porter's hunched over form and his own levitation power to jump into the air and pulling his fist back to punch Brett square in the face.

Brett rolled out of the way mere milliseconds before the hit could connect and, before Matt could realize it, he was already being sent halfway across the room by a kick that landed just on his left flank.

"Faster! Stronger! _Harder_!" Brett yelled. Porter helped Matt get up and they attacked Brett again as Porter flung Matt towards Brett, hoping to land a kick on him, but both were surprised when Brett jumped up, too, and kicked Matt's leg, stopping his kick, and sending himself tumbling towards the floor as well as Matt, had it not been for his levitation. Brett jumped up though and caught Matt with a kick while he was still disoriented and sent him hurtling towards the floor and rolling to one of the attic walls. Breathing heavily, Brett snorted at Porter, a signal for him to come on.

"Faster. Stronger. Harder. _Better_," Brett breathed as he got back in fighting stance. Porter drew back his hand and they were off, Brett avoiding Porter's super-strengthened hits, and Porter phasing through Brett's pivotal ones.

"You can't keep using your powers, Porter," Brett hissed between hard breaths. "It's gonna get you killed. Focus!"

By now, Brett could see that Matt had gotten up, but for some reason he didn't join the fight. That should have been his first clue.

"Do you want to die?!" Brett yelled. "Is that it?! Because there's no way you could take the Source on with the way you've been fighting!"

Brett could see Porter's lips tighten and for a second he hesitated.

"Do you want to end up like the others?! Huh?!" Brett yelled while avoiding a kick aimed for his head. "Is that it?! We're dropping like flies here, Porter, so I need you to _focus_!"

Brett could have sworn he saw something in Porter's eyes snap before he heard the primal scream.

"Shut up! Just shut the HELL up!!!" Porter yelled as his eyes flared and he drew his arm back for a deep punch that caught Brett on the shoulder, sending the other boy clear across the room, through a wall, and bouncing off the wall of the stairs that led up into the attic. Brett let out a scream so loud that, had it not been for the silence spell they had placed around the house, he was certain that the neighbors, if not all of San Francisco, could have heard it.

For a second there, everything turned black and then he remembered feeling something really painful on his left shoulder until something warm seemed to fall over it and suddenly it didn't hurt anymore. When he opened his eyes, he saw Matt kneeling over him, and when Matt met his eyes, Brett couldn't decide if Matt was concerned or angry.

"You know what today was," Matt said, struggling for impassive.

Brett knew.

Brett could feel his gaze hardened a bit. "I know."

Matt nearly lost it. "Then tell what the hell that was?! You _know_ how much she meant to him! To all of us!"

Brett's eyes fumed. "I was trying to teach you guys _not_ to get yourselves killed!"

"By how?! By reminding him of how powerless he was when she fell?! How powerless we all were?!" Matt yelled.

"No. By giving him something to fight for. A goal. Something to achieve!" Brett yelled back. "The only reason she's not with us today is because _none_ of you _ever_ really took these lessons seriously! You have _no_ idea how to really get by without even the slightest bit of magic."

Letting out a frustrated groan, Matt punched the wall of the attic and cursed as he found out how much it hurt, breathing short breaths through his teeth.

For a moment there, both boys just paused there, trapped in a silence that gave them only the comfort of their own thoughts.

"Okay. First? Ow. Remind me never to do that again," Matt said back in his normal voice, albeit shaky as he was still controlling a fraction of his emotions, as he slid down the wall where Brett had propped himself up against. "Second...I get it, okay?"

Brett blinked and his eyebrows furrowed. Huh?

"Huh?"

Matt rolled his eyes affectionately, but still didn't look at Brett. "Look, I'm not saying I agree with...you know, but...I do know why you did...that. I do," he said as he made a vague gesture towards the attic. "But...look, we're not going anywhere, man. As long as we all stick together...we're unstoppable. All the demons_ know_ that. There's no way they could, like, stop us if they wanted to. We're unbeatable together," he said softly as he cast kind brown eyes and a sad smile towards Brett. Eyes and a smile that Brett couldn't find in him to give back.

"Besides...even if we did get into a bind...it's not like you won't be here, right?" Matt said, still smiling, as he pulled Brett into a warm hug.

Brett didn't say anything.

* * *

Brett eyes steeled. "I won't do it."

Wyatt scowled. "It's not like you have a choice."

Brett seethed. "You're going _too_ far, Wyatt. I swear to God, I'll trap you in your own God damn nightmares for the rest of your God damn life if you so much as lift a finger—"

Wyatt hissed. "I'm afraid that this is beyond you to comprehend, my dear. You just don't seem to get it. _Any_ sign of weakness, such as my First Consort still sleeping with my _brother,_ and the whole of demondom will _rise_ against us _and_ your _precious _family—"

"I am _not _your consort!"

"Tell that to over _three hundred million_ demons who think you are!"

Brett nearly choked back a sob, but whether it was because of exasperation or utter hopelessness he couldn't tell. "I—I can't. Not today," he said, shaking his head in a "no" motion. "I can't believe this. I _can't_ believe this! No. No way. I'm not doing it! And, even if I was, I sure as hell wouldn't be telling him _today_ of all days!"

Wyatt scowled in resentment. "I fail to see why you're so unwelcoming of this. You were aware this was coming."

Brett turned furious eyes to him. "You're asking me to throw away _everything_ I have ever loved and fought _so_ hard for _so_ long to keep together just so you could keep your _fucking_ seat as the king of Hell! So, excuse me, Wyatt, if I seem a little_ testy_!"

Wyatt turned murderous eyes to him. "I suggest you keep your voice down."

Brett laughed. "Or what? You'll kill me?" he said and Wyatt began to feel uneasy. "Because, let me tell you _right now_. That would be the _best_ thing you would have _ever_ done for me!"

Wyatt stared in cold silence.

"Now, if you'll excuse me..." Brett said coolly as turned wet eyes towards the kitchen door. "I have an anniversary party to get to."

Wyatt voice was low, soft, and dangerous. "If you don't make an appearance with me tonight, you'll give Chieron the proof he needed to tear down our _entire_ campaign," he hissed as his eyes left the floor tile he had been staring at and slowly met Brett's red ones. "I do _not_ wish to lose over three _billion_ potential soldiers just because of your inane regard for a moral code!"

Brett eyes fumed. "He is the _only _constant I have _ever_ had. I've lost_ too_ much to give him up now! I _refuse_ to sacrifice—"

"That's just it!" Wyatt yelled over Brett's tirade. "You are in _way _too deep, now, my love! _Something_ has got to give. _Something_ has got to be sacrificed or else we both lose," he said as he looked Brett straight in the eye. "You have exactly two choices: either relinquish your _boyfriend_ and the keep possibility of having him as your _best friend_ or...risk losing _everything_ you have _so_ claimed to protect."

The silence that followed was full and intense as two pairs of eyes were locked in a battle over will, wit, and passion.

Suddenly, Wyatt cocked his head then looked directly into Brett's eyes. "You have exactly...five...four...three...two..."

There was a sudden pause, but then Brett was cupping Wyatt's jaw in his hands, standing on his tip toes, roughly crushing his lips against Wyatt's in a way he had never done with Chris as he closed his eyes and tried desperately to will tears away.

The sound of the kitchen door could be heard opening and an excited and familiar voice barged in before it paused and trailed off, and it was all Brett could do not to let out a sob.

"Brett? You'll never believe what I just did! I booked us..."

* * *

Shout outs: Californiachick and Drew's baby...i love you guys.

Don't necessarily need, but wants beta...anyone? Anyone at all?

Also...i'm well aware of how much this chapter sucked, please don't tell me. The next one will be better, I promise.

Well, thank you for reading. Bye.

Devil's Archangel.


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

_flashback_

"Ahh. Chris. You're home," Wyatt said coolly.

Brett's heart was in his throat, his voice raspy, rough, and it was all he could do _not_ to hug the boy with such _sad_ eyes right now.

"Chris..."

Chris only stared at him through glassy eyes, looking like his whole world was crashing down around him, and, regardless of how long they had known each other, Brett could only vaguely discern the feelings of pain, sorrow, and anger reflected in Chris eyes.

There was a long pause—the longest two seconds of all of their lives—and suddenly Chris was fumbling—stumbling—over his words and a stray stool as he backpedaled toward the swinging door.

"I...uh...I'll be in our—my room," Chris said, turning, voice coarse and rough, eyes not leaving Brett's shifting ones.

"Chris..." Brett forced out his throat as he moved to take a step forward, but suddenly Wyatt had an arm around his waist, crushing Brett along his body, and it took every last bit of patience Brett had not to tear Wyatt's arm out of its socket.

He saw Chris look at them again, look at them like _that_, and Brett was almost ready to just drop everything already and call it quits. Quit and just tell Wyatt to screw himself because he, Chris, and the others could totally take on all of the Underworld with or without Wyatt's help; that they'd be fine, and healthy and that they sure as hell didn't need him.

Almost.

"You go ahead and do that," Wyatt said coolly, nonchalantly, and Brett knew that, if this weren't the real thing, if this were just a practice, Wyatt would be smiling and laughing his ass off at the look on Chris' face right now.

That just made Brett feel sicker.

"Chris, I..." Brett began, but it was too late because, even as he was readying to spill everything out, he found himself straining his throat for empty space and vanishing orbs.

And for a moment there, Brett just stood stock still. The kitchen was still and the mood that should have shown itself like it does in almost any long pause—for some reason—didn't come, blanketing the room in cold silence; letting only the strains of party noises that were too loud to stay shut inside the silent spells on the other rooms echo in the emptiness.

"He always was a bit of a drama queen," Wyatt said behind him, and Brett didn't know he could be sick just by hearing someone's voice.

"Get out," Brett said, voice low, back still toward Wyatt, eyes not seemingly possible to leave the spot where all the things he cared about just faded into thin air and swirling lights.

Wyatt's eyebrows furrowed in bemusement and crossed his arms across his chest. "Aren't you happy? I mean, you just finished—"

"I said 'get out,'" Brett hissed, back still turned, and Wyatt really should have known better.

Wyatt scowled and took a step forward, "Why? I thought—"

Brett turned around in a flash, eyes glinting in a multitude of colors, yelling, "GET OUT!"

And, to both boys' surprise, Wyatt was airborne, being sent across the room and through the kitchen window, hands clutching his head in agony, before blacking out as his head hit the tree in the backyard, leaving an angry, panting, bitter, and shaken Brett in his wake.

Pressing his back to the refrigerator door, Brett slid down, hugging his knees as he cried.

* * *

"Chris, I—" Brett started as he hesitantly pushed open the door, pausing as he saw the figure on the bed shoot up into a sitting position and composing itself. 

"Chris—"

"I didn't know who would get the stuff that belonged to both of us, so I thought you should have it," Chris said, keeping his eyes off the other boy. "I packed it with the rest of your other stuff."

Brett nearly stopped breathing. "Chris, I—"

"You're stuff's in Wyatt's room," Chris said as he kept his eyes on the expensive Persian rug. "I thought it'd be best if you moved out tonight."

Brett's eyes sting and he swallows the lump in his throat. "Chris, maybe we should—"

"You're sleeping with my brother," Chris said as he finally locked red, tired eyes with Brett's, saying it more as a fact than a betrayal, his voice only showing a small portion of the resentment Brett knew he was holding in, as controlled as ever.

Brett feels a surge of anger, frustration, and hatred rush through him and he winced at the cruelty of it all, the _unfairness_ of it all, and it was all he could do _not_ to break his hand with the wall behind him.

"Chris, I—"

"I don't care," Chris said, eyes deadlocked on Brett's own, challenging him to recede.

"But, you..." Brett tried as his voice cracked on the lump that formed again in his throat.

Chris just..._looked_ at him like _that_ and it caused Brett's chest to chill.

"I don't want to know," Chris said, and then his eyes were on the rug again, leaving Brett just standing there in the painful silence of a room that he would probably never be allowed into again.

For an eternity, Brett just stares at Chris, stupidly waiting for him to say something, he felt a whole spectrum of emotions pass through him: resentment, disbelief, and...vaguely—inside—something breaking.

Awkwardly, with one last glance at the other boy, he turned, slowly dragging his footsteps across one of the most expensive floors he'd ever seen.

He's at the door way now, hanging on to the railing as he steadies himself for that final crushing blow, that "goodbye" and he kind of does consciously pause at the door, pathetically waiting for something he sort of knows won't—or at least "shouldn't"—come.

He hears the bed sheets rustle, hears some of the floorboards creak, a sharp inhalation and he thinks...maybe...maybe—

"You know what? Actually...actually, yeah. Yeah, I think I do care," Chris' voice rises and Brett has to close before he embarrasses them both in front of the guests who, for some God forsaken, haven't taken his hints and gone home yet. "What...what was that?"

Brett can feel his eyes sting and he knows he only has one chance at this.

"Chris—"

"Because, if this is about last time," Chris speaks over him, voice getting colder by the minute, and the words on the tip of Brett's tongue are gone now, scattered in the wake of Chris' wind, leaving Brett vulnerable and alone. "If this is about getting even, I don't get it, because I thought we were past this."

Suddenly, Brett can feel the breath in his throat hitch, can feel the tension in his hands as they clench and unclench, can feel his eyes burn, and everything—all of it, it all means nothing because it's not like he can tell Chris what's on his mind.

"That's not fair," he says, terribly raspy and wet, and, if you listened close enough, maybe even a little bit shaky.

When Chris throws his head back, it's painful, and, not just for Chris, but for Brett also. "I know it's not fair, Brett, but _this_?" Chris nearly spits out, and Brett can hear the disgust, but mostly hurt, in his voice. "Sleeping with my _brother_?"

When Brett feels the water in his eyes he knows they're born of anger and he realizes he's never been this angry before. He's angry at everything and anything at all. He's angry at the Wyatt for being such a lying, manipulative fucktard, obviously, at the situation, at the way Chris just had to walk in, at the way he had to pick that _specific _time. He's mad at the way he just stood there watching, mad that Chris just stood there—hell, if he's honest, he's even mad at _Chris_—but, mostly...mostly Brett thinks he's angry at himself for not stopping all this sooner.

"_This_ isn't about Wyatt," Brett means to say in a confident way, but when he speaks, his voice fails him and it comes out raspy and parched.

Chris eyes narrow and his lips thin, his arms flailing as he speaks in that way he gets when he's trying to prove a point, and Brett cringes because—if he doesn't catch the flaw in Chris' speech, doesn't use it against him...all of this—they're friendship, their trust, their link—all of it will just fade and if he has to do this, has to give Chris up, well...at least Brett can keep him as the one who still cared about him instead of the one he lost.

"That's exactly my point!" Chris yells. "This is between us, so, then, why...? Because...I'm trying _real_ hard to understand everything and I just...I don't get it. What happened?"

All it takes is that one second. In that one glorious second, something flashed across Brett's brain; flushing, flooding, utterly just blinding, and he just...knew that he could never even begin to tell Chris. Chris, who, Chris, who, though had grown up, had become a name fearful and respected within the magical world, was still very much a little boy; who wouldn't understand real sacrifice until faced to do it himself; something—Brett hoped—he could prevent Chris from ever doing, ever having to do.

So...he sucked it up—all that swelling anger—and breathed as he prepared to bring more than just one person's wall crumbling.

"Because the problem started way before Wyatt, Chris," he hisses, and it's in _that_ tone of voice that Brett knows Chris knows Brett uses when he's serious.

"Honestly? I didn't think I could do it anymore."

Chris sneered, "What? Date me?"

Brett locked his eyes with Chris and he had to remind himself why he was doing this. "Love you. Love you and not care."

Chris takes a fast, shallow breath. "What?"

"Things have been wrong for weeks now, Chris, and you haven't so much as picked up even one God damn clue to figure it out," Brett breathes.

Chris' face is one of disbelief and Brett crosses his fingers behind and prays. "What are you talking about?"

Brett surreptitiously sighs in relief and he forces the derisive laugh from the back of his throat up. "I resent you, Chris," he says, head shaking back in forth, voice growing abnormally high, smiling that hideous mock smile. "I resent the hell out of you. You're gone for weeks, and then...you're just back. You're back and then you _change_ and it's like nothing ever happened, that it's back to the way it used to be, but...I'm not entirely sure that that could happen."

There are tears in Chris' eyes and when his meets Brett's he looks away and is biting and sarcastic, "So you're saying this is my fault?"

No. Brett blinks, but he knows he only has one chance at this, so he answers unflinchingly. "Yeah."

Chris just half-laughed, half-scoffed and Brett's still waiting to breathe.

Then, suddenly Chris is laughing hysterically and it pains Brett to see it.

"What?"

Chris turns those intense eyes on him. "I can't believe you're blaming this on _me_," he laughs. "I try to make things better and you blame _me_."

"What do you want me to say, Chris?"

"That you not blame me for a problem in our relationship so you could sleep with another guy who, oh, yeah, just happens to be my _brother_!"

"See? You don't even know me enough anymore to know that I wouldn't do that."

"You mean, you know, except that you kinda _are_."

"..."

"..."

"I never said I was perfect."

"No, you just implied it a lot."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Heh heh. What do you think it means? You're the one who goes around telling people what to do and training them as if they weren't half at your level, which, you know, they are."

"I was trying to help them."

"By making them feel inferior?"

"By trying to keep them alive!"

"..."

"Which, by the way, is more than I could say for you."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"What do you _think_ it means?"

"I _love _this family."

"And you did such a great job in showing it by running out the door every chance you got!" Brett grits his teeth and he doesn't really know if he's acting anymore.

"I had reasons!"

"I do, too!"

Scoffs. "That doesn't even compare. I wanted justice, not another warm body!"

Brett laughs back, tears spilling. "No. You were just a coward who ran when things got too rough."

The words were out of his mouth, and suddenly, the room was quiet and neither of them spoke for the longest time.

"...Chris, I..." Brett breathes, but then stops and he knows that it's all over.

A second later Chris orbs out and Brett is left awkwardly standing alone.

He climbs on the bed, hugs his knees to his chest, and just lets himself cry.

When Wyatt comes barreling through the door a second later, he's furious and red.

"What the hell was that—"

"Shut up, Wyatt," Brett hisses, his voice is dark and commanding, eyes fiery, but cold.

Wyatt opens and closes his mouth a few times, but then just keeps it shut, seething.

Brett gets up off the bed, makes his way over to the taller boy, and doesn't even bother wiping the tears on his cheeks away.

"Let's just do this."

* * *

Shout outs: Daniel-lover, rin-loy, ravenuk01. 

Thanks you guys.

I'm sorry I'm not posting as quickly, but I'm so busy at school.  Luckily, this weekend, I'm going up to Houston (on bus) and will have more than enough time to write a chapter or two, so you can expect when one Monday to Wednesday.

Thanks again to the readers.  Please encourage...review.

Devil's Archangel


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Eight

_flashback_

"I told you he was better off without you," Brett hears as Wyatt places his left hand on Brett's shoulder and his right hand on Brett's waist.

"Shut up, Wyatt," is all Brett can say and he can't take his eyes off the staircase.

Wyatt only throws his head back, his laugh nearly drowned out by the noises of the other party-goers, and Brett grits his teeth. "Is that all you can say?"

Brett can only stare, and, no, those aren't _his_ watery eyes. He bites his inner cheek and thinks he can faintly taste metal.

Wyatt smiles.

"Just face it, love," he says in that calm, infuriatingly neutral voice that's, this time, only a little smug. "He found her two minutes after he left you."

Brett swallows the lump in his throat and prepares to speak only to find...he can't. Doesn't know how.

His hands are in her hair, his neck is in her arms, his forehead touching hers, his smile shining in her eyes, and they're both cooing so sweetly that it's sickening; one of _those _moments that would cause that painful ache in any person's stomach to mysteriously travel up toward the chest and a little to the left.

Brett winces and Wyatt wraps an arm around his waist.

By the time Chris finishes pulling her into his lap Brett is already slamming the front door.

* * *

Brett watches the swinging door close and follows her into the kitchen. He looks at the reflection of his image in the glass window and, somehow, there's already and knife to his throat. 

"You've got some nerve," she hisses.

Brett sees his image disappear into thin air and she stumbles back, only slightly surprised when he started speaking.

"I know."

He uncloaks himself from his illusion and she settles dark, hateful eyes on him.

"You shouldn't even be here."

Brett just stares at her unflinchingly.

"I know."

Her lips thin, her nose flaring, as she breathes heavily at his curt reply, but he doesn't give anything away and that just upsets her more.

Her eyes flame with all the strength of her ancestry and she opens her mouth to scream at him, to yell at him, hell, to hit him, but then she sees sadness in his eyes, despite the smile and uncertainty fills her.

They look at each other, a stalemate, neither backing down, and she studies his face. There's nothing there. At all. His eyes are a bit shiny, almost contrite, but his ghost of a smile is happy and she doesn't know what to think.

Seconds tick away and they're still locked like that, but then he really does smile and turns to move, and, for some reason, she feels like she has to say something.

"He's fine," she says, not knowing why she said that, and angry because of it. "He's okay. He's...he's doing okay."

She sees something flicker in his eyes and emotion washes over his face, and she thinks he might actually say something now, something deep and meaningful, something important, but...no.

"Thank you," is all he says and his smile is genuine despite the sad eyes. He fidgets, looks at the floor, twiddles his thumbs, hands running through his hair, takes one more look at her and flashes a grateful smile then turns to leave again.

And...she feels like she should just leave it like that, just let it go, but then—she doesn't know why—but then...then—

"He's changed. Different," she says softer now, but still harsh, wary. "He's quieter now. Introverted. Guarded." Her eyes flicker away to ponder that and she laughs suddenly, crude and gravely, and, when she speaks, she knows he can hear the accusation in her voice. "I didn't think it was possible."

She expects him to look shocked at that, to be devastated, to feel _something_, but all she caught was a slight wince, and she honestly doesn't know whether it was because of her tone or her words, and that just makes her all the more angry.

He smiles.

"I know."

He turns again to walk and she seethes. She realizes that everything she's been feeling has been leading up to this. She's beyond angry and...and hateful, and she's just...she's _pissed_.

"You don't even care, do you?" she asks, hand flailing, trying to drive out the itch to just blast him with an energy ball. "You don't even care that he's practically imploding in on himself, and you're the one who caused it. You don't even _care_."

He sighs, and she thinks it's supposed to be warning. "Bianca..."

She doesn't care.

She's moving forward without her own consent, but she's too far gone to care if she loses control...you know, at least on him. "You knew, didn't you? You probably knew this would happen and you still let it," she said, head bobbing, bordering on hysterical. "You still let him cave in on himself. You _sick_ fucker."

She gets a reaction out of him then, even if it is a small one. His lips thin and he looks away from her, and she can tell he's getting a little angry himself.

"It's not like that," he says as his eyes meet her again.

She laughs at his face. "No? Then tell me what it's like."

His face is stoic, his entire body like a wall he thinks she can't affect anymore.

It takes a second for her to think back, to reflect and something just...clicks and she almost blacks out in her rage.

"You knew!" she yells and she moves to hit him, only to be unpleasantly surprised to find that it was just another illusion. "You knew about him and me before your staged finding out, didn't you?! You knew what was happening, knew where he was going, and you...you just stood by?!"

She's still now, scanning the room with all her sensing powers, but she can't get a lock on him of he keeps doing that mind shift.

"You knew it was tearing him apart, you not knowing, him betraying you, and you just did NOTHING?!" she yells as she picks up a stack of plates and hurls them anywhere and everywhere. "What kind of love is that?!"

She wipes the tears away from her cheeks as she moves on to the next stack, not even bothering to look at the places she's throwing them to. "What kind of person _does_ that? _Who_ would do that? _Why_?"

The plates stop, and the room is quiet save for her heavy breathing between sobs, and when she looks up, she can see the light and shadows bend and Brett appears, voice breathy and hoarse, tears freely falling from dark-blue eyes, despite that infuriating ghost of a smile he has on.

"Because I'm selfish."

He takes one last, long look at her and their eyes meet, then turns and pushes the kitchen door, flooding the room with alternative music and sounds of people talking before stepping through, letting the door slowly swing shut.

When she's crying on the littered, jagged floor, she doesn't know which of the three of them the tears are for.

* * *

"Come, my dear," Wyatt whispers into his ear, and Brett doesn't have the energy to shudder. "There's nothing left for you here." 

He takes Wyatt's outstretched hand and walks down the steps of the old, but still standing manor, and pauses. He turns around one last time, looking through the open doors to see Matt staring at him, arms crossed, eyes shot, tears falling, even as his mouth twists in defiance amidst the wreck that used to be a home.

When Matt raises his arm and slams the door shut with such a telekinetic force that some of the glass breaks and falls off, Brett feels proud of himself that he only let a few tears spill down his cheeks.

He takes Wyatt's hand again and he finds himself quickening the pace to the limo waiting at the end of the walkway. He doesn't wait for the chauffer to open the door and gets in, Wyatt settling in next to him, albeit gruffly, though smiling, and then their off to some building Wyatt found—a penthouse, he thinks—to call a place of their own.

Brett doesn't know if he has it in him to call it a home.

The limo is quiet, Brett settles back on his seat and looks out the window at the trees and bright sky. He takes in a deep breath and lets himself try not to think about what's gonna happen next.

* * *

For teal-lover and raveuk01...you encourage me the most. Thank you.

To ChrisBianca, Faith Love and Penny Candy (I still love that name)and Drew's baby: Thank you for reviewing, I appreciate it muchly.

Rin-Loy, I love your enthusiasm. Thank you. (to be less confused, though, read the more recent chapters, preferably in chronological order.)

Thanks again to everyone.

Please review.

Devil's Archangel


	29. Author's Note

A/N

Don't get excited, this isn't an actual posting.

I just wanted to apologize to the people who actually care about this fic--which, I don't know why they would because it, like, really really sucks--because, though I promised to update over the break, I broke my fingers and am incapable of typing pieces in any a form of a decent amount of time.

I'm sorry.

Anyway, the second reason I'm typing this is because...well, I was reading this over again and I realized...this was my first fanfic, and...it really looks like it.

It's just...so badly written.

So...I came to the conclusion that, once my hand heals, I will post three chapters and three chapters only--preferably within the same week if I can spare it--until I start a complete overhaul from the beginning.

Now, I won't change what happened, I'll keep the events more or less the same, but I think I'll completely change some of the way things were said and how people said them: work on their voices, make them seem more real, etc.

Because, really, I just read this again and I find I really HATE Brett (esp. beginning Brett) and am very upset with Pansy!Chris.

It's just...I've been writing more for different fandoms (though I don't post all of them) and I've found that they all look better than this peice of crap because I think I've finally found a few writing styles I'm acutally comfortable in.

So, basically, I'm going to start a rewrite of this entire story. But, to be fair, after those three chapters, I'll alternate between a Rewrite and New chapter so both you, the audience, and myself will be aqueised.

With that said, I hope you can forgive for not writing and thank you for sticking with for this long even though I find that this fic was so terribly wrong.

Sincerely,

Devil's Archangel


	30. Chapter 29

Standard Disclaimer

Ahhh! No lynching. I profusely apologize to all of the people who were expecting more of this story and making you wait this long for an update. I admit that I have no actual reason to excuse myself , but I promise you that I'll try my best to make for it in the quality oflater chapters.

Sorry, people. Chris isn't in this one, but it gives good background on three important characters.

I hope you like this one, guys. **AllForYouRemy**? For your encouragement, for emailing me yourself, for making me feel like this fic counted?

This one is for you.

_For my Muse._

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Nine 

_Flashback _

"Um…Sir?"

The door creaks open and Brett thinks the curtains should be darker in here. There's too much sunlight and it's ruining his morning. Or is it mourning?

"Uh…Master Brett?" the voice asks again, and something flashes across Brett's mind. Lights. And fireballs. A scream. Maybe more. There's a hand around his throat, but it's not his throat, it's someone else's, but it doesn't explain why he still can't _breathe_.

"Master Brett?"

Brett wants to rip out _his_ vocal cords.

"His Eminence has asked me to check on you," says the voice, and Brett can't move. "He is…concerned."

There's something shifting behind him. Brett shuts his eyes, lips thinning, as he clutches the sheets in his hands.

Tighter. Tighter. Always tighter.

…

"Should I…should I tell him that you are well?" it—_he_—says again and

"Very well, Sir," he says and Brett can hear the uncertainty better than the clink of china and metal. "I sh—I shall petition the cook to prepare something more of your liking."

…

"Well, then," he says, and Brett can feel the eyes boring into his back. "If that is all…"

The footsteps sound hesitant on the floor, and it's more like shuffling then anything and Brett just wants him to _leave_.

Pauses. Hitches. Takes a deep breath, and

"If it's any consolation," Brett hears and the voice is turned towards the door. "I'm sorry for…the, uh—the entire magical community was…saddened by your loss. We all felt the, uh…the grievances for…"

It's quiet, but Brett can almost hear him cleaning his glasses.

"They were…spectacular. Righteous. Incredibly strong. But…, mostly, they were…_good_," he finishes, moving again.

"Well, then," he says and Brett's grip has tightened exponentially on his pillow.

…

"Good morn—er, afternoon, Sir."

There's more foot-shuffling and china/metal clinking and more deep breathing and Brett listens to the quiet _outside_ his head again because it's better than the chaos _inside_ it.

"…I…I'm—" His eyes are teary, throat swollen, and he chokes when he tries to use it.

Stops. Pauses.

No more shuffling, and—despite his heart beating like a rabbit's—it's _really_ quiet now.

"…Yes, Sir?"

Brett doesn't turn. He doesn't un-tense, and he's certain he's still tucked in like a curled child. He doesn't smile, not even one of those half-smile ones, or those amused ones.

But his grip, though, hasn't changed on his sheets and pillow.

"…Call me 'Brett,'" he whispers, and—inside—he thinks he said it more to himself than to the man, and it makes sense because it was said so softly he doesn't think anyone could have heard it at all.

Only…

"…Yes. Or course, Mas—er. Br-Brett," the man stutters, more of surprise than anything, but Brett can still hear the faintest of smiles in his voice. "Good afternoon, Brett."

There's a slight pause. The door closes.

It's quiet again.

* * *

Brett never sees him, really. When he does "see" him, he's either just too tired to talk or—to be more accurate, attempting to seem like he's too tired to talk—or he's just staring into space; deep in his own lala land where lanky boys with chestnut hair and green, green eyes who bear promises that they'll always come back actually keep them, his back facing the doorway, so it's not like he actually sees him, either way. 

Mostly he just sleeps.

* * *

"Good afternoon, Brett." 

…

"You'll be happy to know that His Eminence will be gone for a few days. Three in the very least."

Sheet shuffles.

"Ah. Well. You've finished with breakfast, then. Good. At this rate, Sir, your health may return in the next two and a half years."

A snort. Air of disbelief, more out of automatic nerves then actually response.

Still…

"Yes. Well…"

Disarming, insulting, confronting.

_British._

"Good Afternoon, Brett."

Soft, head still turned away, barely heard.

"…Bye."

* * *

He sees them sometimes. Gets visions of them. Sometimes long, sometimes short. 

Always them.

Spontaneous stuff, too. Prue brushing her hair. Laughing. Phone.

Potter. Playing football. Determined, just a little smug.

Then there's Megan. She's reading her four different books simultaneously and it's always her—_this_—that makes him think they're still tangible.

He knows they're not.

* * *

"You _dare_ raise your hand at _ME!" _

_"_I…I apologize, Sire. It's just Bre—er, Master Brett does not quite feel like himself today, and—"

Screams. Things shattering. Incomprehensible pleas.

Sobbing.

"Tell me. …Is he…is he always like this?"

Cautious. Guarded. Honest.

"…Not always."

* * *

He thinks Jeeves—Giles? Jerry?—sees him sometimes. He has the grace to become embarrassed. 

Doesn't matter though. Not in comparison.

Seeing Chris die over and over again is different than the others. Brett never saw Chris' flesh slowly turn to solid concrete. Never saw him rip and claw and bleed his way out of a dimensional rift to a demonic world and lose. Never saw him cry and sob and wither away because he couldn't control his growing empathic powers in Wyatt's New World Order.

No. No, when he sees Chris die, it's always new and equally worse than the last.

* * *

"I'm sorry! Please! God, I'm so…" 

"Help! I need help in here! Somebody!"

"Oh, god…I'm so—I never…I didn't mean to…"

"Anyone! …Yes, yes, you two! Hurry!"

"No. No, please, you have to…you have to believe me! I…I never—"

"You! I need you to—bloody hell! Grab his legs!"

No. No, please, don't—you don't have to…"

"Shh. Shh. It's just me, Master Brett. You're fine. We're in your room. Nothing is wrong."

Quietly. "…I'm so sorry."

* * *

Time doesn't mean anything to him. He's lost all sense of it since coming here. It's hard to tell the time of day, now, actually, let alone what day it is. Rainstorms are common nowadays and—for a while there—Brett wondered if Wyatt brought a demon friend of his to make it like that or if nature itself was reflecting its dislike of the Abomination. The sounds of thunder and rain drops hitting the glass and the blackest, blackest grey often fill the room and—when he's coherent enough—Brett smiles at the irony in that. Once, he'd had a laughing riot so hard that Wyatt himself came barging in with half a dozen demons in tow—armed—and his demonic Book of Shadows in hand; fingers twitching on an exorcism chant. Even now Brett can't tell if the mournful and reluctant look on Wyatt's face was because Brett instantly stopped laughing or because Wyatt didn't get to use his precious Grimoire. 

He finds he doesn't really want to.

He's starting to forget things, too. At first he didn't really notice, just wondered why his wrists and ankles would ache, but chalked it up to malnutrition, promising himself he'd eat the next day. He'd tell—Marcus? Tobias? Elias?—during…lunch, maybe, and—after the first four times—he'd taken the hint, and told the cook to make something Brett could actually keep down, and then the aching stopped by the next morning.

The first time he saw the bruises scared him shitless, though. He'd wanted to take a shower so, as he turned the knob to get the hot water started in his double headed shower—Brett still shudders at that particular Wyatt implication—he'd taken his robe off and found hand-shaped bruises adorning his wrists, hips and ankles. Winded, he fell backward, landing on his ass and irrationally furious and shocked and really, _really_ fucking scared, cursing at himself for not eating and becoming so weak as angry tears fell.

Later, he'd asked—Victor? Ethan? Warrick?—about them only to have the man nearly drop the silver tray of food on the bedside table, back ramrod straight before rigidly whispering "You were having nightmares," before briskly walking out of the room. Brett never asked again, deciding that if he could trust anyone in this building—which he didn't. Not really.—it was—Nathaniel? Brian? Alexander?—and that was it. Eventually, he realized that whenever those bruises would appear—Daniel? Bryce? Jonathan?—would get this cautious, emotional—almost pitying look on his face and it felt like Brett's stomach dropped, only he was still horizontal.

He crossed that out though, and just marked—Ryan? Lucas? Andrew?—as an idiotic, judging asshole because, some days, he'd still look at Brett like that even if he was bruise-free.

Those days Brett just scowled.

* * *

He woke up with Wyatt in his room once. 

In his bed.

He remembers feeling deep, scorching breath beside his ear and a heavy arm nearly pinning him where his chest met his abdomen in almost comforting position. He remembers later laughing at the thought because there was a time where he thought the words "comfort" and "Wyatt" were mutually exclusive, an oxymoron of course, and, by all means antonyms.

Either way, Brett was so fucking scare he almost blew Wyatt to Mecca with his newfound Coronation powers. Two seconds of coherency, a decreasing heart-beat, one steadying breathing pattern, and a loud drumming in his ear later, Brett came to; slowly recognizing where he was and who he was with.

And did it anyway.

Later, Wyatt caught him between a surprisingly sudden lunch—he'd only ever truly felt hungry on one of _those_ days—and Brett remembers mentally laughing as Wyatt valiantly tried to stop himself from showing how agitated he truly was while asking,

"Was it completely necessary sending me to the Middle East in ashes?"

Brett already had his mouth open, sarcasm and barbs dripping from their toxicity, before he felt some weird, inexplicable reason not to fire them at all: a weird feeling not unlike guilt.

Which would be dumb because it's not like he asked Wyatt to come into his room and molest him while he was sleeping. He should be angry, right? Furious?

Instead, "I…I'm sorry."

* * *

"What's…what's wrong with him?" 

"To be fully honest, I don't quite know, Sir. We—_I_ believe there might be a dilemma of some sort concerning his psychic powers. Sometimes he'll just—"

"This happened _before_? And I wasn't _informed_!

"Your Majesty—"

"Get out."

"But…Sir—"

"I said 'GET OUT!' All of you!"

Sounds of feet shuffling, claws scraping against carpet, and the creak of a door opening.

The smell of sulfur and dust.

Ash.

Movements awkward, joints moving with uncertainty; fear.

Pain.

Voice low; hushed and less commanding.

Perplexed.

"It's okay. Shh. It's…it's going to be okay, just…come here. Just…let me—stop moving. Here, let me—just relax, let me hold you. No, just—there, rest your back against me. Here, give me your hands. Just—there. Let it out.

"It'll be fine. _You'll _be fine." Softer, "I promise you."

Then, "I thought I told you to leave."

"…I—I apologize, Sir. I've just made it a habit of sitting with him until he stops and falls asleep; healing him in the morning. I just assumed…"

"…Go home." Pause. "…I'll…"

"…Sir?"

"If you…should _any_one…" Pauses. "I wouldn't kill you."

Swallows. "Understood, Sir."

* * *

Wyatt doesn't visit him often; a blessing he thanks whatever fucked up Gods are left for that small (infinitely momentous) miracle. His only regret is that Wyatt visits at all. 

Well…not only.

Still.

And then there was that week that Wyatt himself—not his guards, not his General-of-the-Month, not a certain British butler, but the actual—in color, shape, and form—Wyatt _himself_—"stopped by" every six or so hours.

The first day it happened, Brett was so shocked he let a whole thirty milli-seconds pass before very eloquently requesting (screaming so loud that the entire floor must have heard. They did—he later learned—at least, according to—by now he secretly named the guy and only for the sake of his sanity—Giles. Then he laughed.) Wyatt to fuck off and leave him alone.

Surprisingly, Wyatt did. Just passively stared at him for a couple of seconds; at the proverbial snarl, teeth bared, eyes full of anger and frustration and hatred with just a hint of self-disgust, before jutting his chiseled chin out and snorting. Brett flinched at how he must have looked: half naked on a too-suggestively large bed with black satin sheets, looking like a refugee from a "Titanic" screening—except, you know, a boy—eyes bright with unshed tears borne of injustice and revenge.

Looking back, though, Brett thinks he could (should) kick himself.

Repeatedly, and at different times.

And wonders when exactly he became a girl.

It didn't really matter, though, as the door not quite slammed in Wyatt's wake, jostling Brett out of his reverie.

Brett took that as a victory, though—his first in very few—and congratulated himself for erupting in only _sixteen_ milli-seconds the rest of the week.

* * *

"My name is Rupert, actually," he says, grinning. "Because, despite how 'You there!' _seems_ to be quite the obvious guess, that hardly makes it correct." 

Brett snorted (part of him laughing at the reference). "Not that anyone else around here bothered to notice."

"Your self included?" he asked, an eyebrow raised, and Brett did his best to hide his blush.

"Honestly, however, you'd be surprised to find that most do, actually. Even the demons, barring the guards, of course—although…well, they _are_ guards, after all—I naturally assumed stoicism would be a welcome attribute in there case."

Pause. Diverted eyes frantically running from studious ones.

"You'd know that, too, had you actually taken a step out of this—"

"—Heh, prison cell?"

"…Cave."

Brett's fingers stop pulling on the un-drawn curtains. It's hard for him to find his seat.

"He…is concerned for you. He worries about you. Cares for you. He—"

Brett's eyebrows tighten, but whether it's out of betrayal or shock, he doesn't know.

"Stop it," he swallows, thickly, but his words are soft and he doesn't know if he was heard.

"I…believe that—and…if this has any value to you—"

"—It doesn't—"

"—That Master Wyatt, though—admittedly—hasn't the best of character, harbors a genuine…affection for you, that he—"

"—Do you have any family, Rupert?" His voice is cold and alien—not his—but he's speaking with it; cutting his insides like rusted blades.

Surprised. "Um…why…er, why, yes, in fact. My wife, Jenna, and two little girls."

"Then…then you could imagine what it would feel like to…to know that they d— They got _hurt_ and you were— And that— That even though the murderer—the one who should be responsible for the whole _goddamn_ thing—is just sitting there, enjoying his veal _fucking_ Vitello alla Parmigiano, not feeling a _goddamn_ thing, while knowing that some part—not matter how small you wish it could be—of that guilt fell on _your_ shoulders…then…_then_ you should…you can…you—"

His voice catches in his throat and he can't look at the man beside him and see the compassion there; the pity.

It's blinding, demanding, and it tastes like broken glass.

When the other speaks, his voice is soft and Brett feels the itch of ice dancing across his fingertips.

"Oh, ducks—"

Eyes cutting, flashing.

_Disgusted_.

He wonders if Wyatt would mind finding a replacement.

Their first job would be getting rid of the shattered pieces before they melted.

His voice is venomous, but his eyes can't seem to stop being wet.

"_Then_, ask me," he breathes, glaring. "Again. Ask me _then _how I couldn't—_can't_—and _not_ feel that same self-ha— That same way."

Pause.

Voice thick, hand heavy, but so _warm_ on his wracking shoulder.

He feels patronized by it. Insulted.

It burns.

But he doesn't pull away.

He fears he's forgotten how.

"Sometimes, in life, we find ourselves…lost. That, somehow, we've suddenly taken the road less traveled and have no explanation as to how or why we ended up at that precise location."

Such _strong_ blue eyes. And…there. That spark.

_Safety_.

"There's…there is _no_ shame in not wanting to find our way back alone."

There's a pause and Brett doesn't know how many minutes pass by. The hand is scorching his skin through his shirt, but he still refuses to look up.

The bell chimes and it's Twelve o'clock. He can feel the man's eyes on his back.

"I have to go," he says, and Brett lets out a breath, but whether it's out of relief or envy, he can't say. "Tomorrow is a Sunday so that means I won't—"

Brett's grin isn't a smile, but a strange parody of one. "You'll be gone till Tuesday. I know."

Feet shuffle and the door can be heard opening. There's a pause, but Brett finds the tiles of his floor very interesting.

When the other man talks, his voice is soft and—for once—surprisingly uncertain.

"I told you my name—Rupert—I didn't lie about that, but, well…I'd rather you'd call me by what the people I care about call me, what my friends call me."

There's a pause and Brett knows this is too cliché.

"What my family calls me."

He smirks, and it's scary. Even to him. "And what's that?"

He only smiles genuinely in return. "Alden. Call me Alden."

* * *

Special thanks to **Teal-lover**, **Raven01uk**, and **Vampiric Kitten**. 


End file.
